


The Waylaid Wand

by ErisFMc



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action, Crimes & Criminals, Drama, Gen, Legal Drama, Mystery, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-22 00:05:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3708051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErisFMc/pseuds/ErisFMc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magical items are used in an escalating series of violent Muggle crimes and the Weasleys are implicated. The trio leading the way, they must fight to preserve not only their reputation but their very freedom.  As the Muggle world descends into panic does a wand, lost during the darkest days of the war, and a girl, unaware of the magical world, hold the key to preventing disaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The doors of the grimy East London storage facility were painted dull red to hide the rust. The outside lights were broken, destroyed by owners keen that their night time activities remained unobserved.

The contents of most of the lock-ups were mundane. No 17 contained paints, thinners and other material used by  _The Brushmen,_  a legitimate local painting business. No 5 contained boxes of cell phones and laptop computers, stock in trade for a business less legitimate.

No 24 was different. For a start, the inside of the lockup was much larger than seemed possible from the outside and it was full of exotic objects: ancient wooden chests exquisitely carved by elves, bizarre crystal figurines, the finest silverware wrought by goblin craftsmen and horrifying implements that looked like they belonged in a medieval torture chamber. There was even a stuffed thestral.

In the far corner, inside a dark rosewood sideboard, lay nearly a hundred wands. Most were lifeless, their former owners dead, murdered, but in a few wands, life still stirred. One wand, vine wood, with a dragon heartstring core, waited patiently.

oOo

He was going to be rich. They'd show respect then; all those men in suits who looked at him like they were scraping something distasteful off the heel of their polished leather shoes, the women who turned up their noses and hurried away. They'd bow and scrape when he walked into their high class restaurants then, "Yes Mr Jordan, we have kept our best table for you Mr Jordan."

Eddy checked his gun, wrapped his cloak around him and then stepped out of the shadows. He felt eyes turn toward him as sauntered through Piccadilly Circus. He cut quite a figure in his long sky blue silk cloak, flapping in the light breeze, his wide brimmed, black floppy hat and a theatrical mask. He smiled as some American tourists snapped his photo. They'd all be paying even more attention in a minute.

An armed security guard stood outside of Barclay's Bank, Eddy's destination. Too bad for the guard.

The guard moved to bar Eddy's entrance to the bank. "Sorry sir, you will have to remove your mask before you can enter."

Eddy Jordan shot the guard before he even registered that Eddy had pulled out a gun. A plump woman, about to exit the bank, rushed back inside screaming. Eddy dragged the dead guard inside the bank, leaving a wide trail of smeared blood on the floor, and then fired his gun again, shattering a life size crystal statue.

Heavy steel shutters slammed down in front of the tellers stations providing security for bank staff, but leaving their customers to the mercy of the gunman. Eddy could still observe the staff area through three bullet proof glass wall panels. He was sure they could still hear him.

"You, customers, you all move over there into the corner and sit down," commanded Eddy. Only a handful of the dozen customers moved, the rest were frozen on the spot. "Now," shouted Eddy, waving his gun around. They all scurried to the corner.

"Alright, this is what is going to happen. Within three minutes you bankers are going to pile a hundred thousand in cash at my feet. Any fake notes or ink bombs and things will get ugly. Anyone call the cops and things will get ugly. Time starts now."

He knew the filth were likely already on the way, probably an armed response unit, but, hey, that's what they always said in the movies.

For a few seconds nothing happened, then a woman in a blue skirt and plain white blouse nodded and all the bank staff began dashing about looking busy.

"We don't have a hundred thousand in cash," said the woman in a surprisingly firm voice.

"Of course you do," replied Eddy. "This is your main London branch. You now have two minutes and forty seconds."

Eddy stood stock still and waited. Two minutes later a young man opened the door from the secure staff area. He poked his head out and then, nervously pushing a large red sack in front of him, approached Eddy.

"That's about seventy thousand pounds," he said, almost swallowing his words. "We're trying to get together a little more. Please don't hurt anyone."

Eddy said nothing and the young banker took the opportunity to scurry back to the safety of the staff area.

Eddy produced a collapsible satchel and, pointing the gun at a middle age customer in an expensive suit, said, "You, transfer the cash to this bag. Now!" The man hurried to comply and Eddy smiled to see the man crawling on the ground doing his bidding. All the time the man was transferring the cash, the sounds of sirens grew louder. Eddy waited till the man was finished and then picked up the bag and headed for the exit and out.

It was as he thought, the armed response team had arrived. Eddy's gun and the police had largely succeeded in clearing Piccadilly Circus, but all the approaches were chaotic. Several cops were sheltering behind police cars, their rifles aimed squarely at Eddy.

"Drop everything and put your hands in the air," shouted one of the cops. "If you attempt to re-enter the bank we will shoot."

Eddy smiled, turned his back on the police and started walking to the entrance to the London Underground.

"Halt," yelled a cop, but when Eddy repeatedly refused to halt they opened fire. The bullets just bounced off Eddy, he didn't even feel them. He turned and fired at the cops, making sure they kept their distance.

_Time to get out of here_. He dashed for the Underground entrance and was soon on a train. At Waterloo station he took off his cloak and hat and switched lines. A few more line switches, like they do in the movies, and he was just an ordinary working bloke, heading home in the late afternoon.

The cloak and black hat were safely tucked away in the satchel. Best investment he had ever made. It had cost near everything he had, but when Billy the Fence had demonstrated it to him, he just had to have it. Developed by the Israeli army, Billy had said. Smart people, the Israelis, but Eddy couldn't help wonder why they had made it look so theatrical. He didn't mind though. He was sure that his picture, hatted, masked and cloaked, was going to be on the front page of every newspaper in the country.


	2. Game On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is assigned to the investigation.

Arthur Weasley poked his head outside of his office. "Have you got a minute, Hermione?"

"Of course, Mr Weasley," she replied, looking up from the thick file she was annotating, one of a dozen musty old folders neatly arranged on her desk along with several fat volumes of  _Webblestein on Magical Law Precedents_ and a photo of Ron.

Hermione had now been working at the ministry for six months. She had graduated from Hogwarts with seven outstanding Newts, a feat only matched 11 times in the last century. She had taken a two months break, including a memorable holiday in Italy with Ron, Harry and Ginny before commencing her ministry career.

Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, wanted to get Hermione into a senior position as soon as possible. She was one of a number of young, highly talented and trustworthy people he needed to fast-track as part of his program of revitalising the rotten, creaking structure of the Ministry. He knew, though, that he wouldn't get away with appointing a twenty year old, without any ministry experience, directly into an important post, even if she was the recipient of the Order of Merlin, first class, and a member of the Wizengamot. He had devised an eighteen month program for Hermione and several others where they would rotate through positions of responsibility in the more important departments. "They will either sink or swim," he told critics, but Kingsley was confident they would soar and demonstrate their worthiness for the posts he had in mind for them.

Hermione was currently working as Arthur Weasley's senior assistant. Arthur himself was now the third highest official in the Ministry, only the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Kingsley himself were more senior.

Hermione settled into a comfortable old leather chair in front of Arthur's desk.

"There's been a series of Muggle bank robberies that have a bad smell about them," said Arthur.

"Yes, I have heard of them: The Phantom of Piccadilly. I saw a TV report at my parents on the weekend. Apart from the over the top fashion sense, what concerns you?"

"What you won't have seen on Muggle TV is the fact that this phantom is impervious to bullets. They just bounce off him. No one wanted to look stupid reporting such an impossible thing to their superiors. It took a long time for the information to reach the top and for our Muggle relations people to pick it up. When the Muggle Prime Minister heard, he put two and two together and gave Kingsley a right blast. This phantom has already killed three people. If illicit magic is involved, we need to get on top of this quickly."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Marvin Hoffleshead from Magical Law Enforcement has been appointed to head the investigation. I want you to work with him on it, representing this department. Muggle affairs comes under my jurisdiction and you will be speaking with my full authority. You will be able to countermand any action that, in your judgement jeopardises the interests of Muggles or this department. I've made that clear to Marvin though I suggest you use that authority judiciously and with a light touch." Arthur's face took on an apprehensive look as he added, "Please don't take this the wrong way, Hermione, but from what my youngest son has said, you may find that a bit of a challenge. Think of it as a learning experience. Now go, Marvin is expecting you."

Hermione stood up and left, fuming over Arthur's last remark. Ron was going to be sleeping on the couch tonight.

oOo

Not for the first time Ron found himself envying Muggle communication technology. Owls were slow and could only deliver a small number of items and had to be fed. Using patronuses was cool, but you could never be sure who could hear the other end of the conversation. Besides not every wizard could produce one and even fewer knew how to use them to communicate.

Whenever he and Hermione stayed with Hermione's parents he was blown away with sheer usefulness of telephones and emails. Hermione's cell phone amazed him. Unfortunately, here in the magical maelstrom of  _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes,_  in the heart of Diagon Alley, Muggle electronics were not an option.

Ron had worn out a squadron of owls chasing up a large order placed with the  _Flower Petal Trading Company_ in Yingzhou in China. It should have arrived a month ago, but he was unable to get anything from the supplier beyond empty polite phrases. Visiting their local London warehouse had proved even less useful than owls to Yingzhou.

Ron had been working with George for over eighteen months now. After a shaky start, he and George had developed a good working relationship. Ron took care of the organisational and logistical side of the business, while George worked on the more creative side of product development and marketing. They both kept a close eye on the money.

This current mess came about because George, on a trip to China with Angelina, fell in love with all things Chinese: the art, the architecture and above all the traditional wizard clothing. He became equally obsessed with the idea of saving a great deal of money getting products made there.

Ron looked down in frustration at the latest message from the  _Flower Petal Trading Company_  expressing earnest hope that his 'gold and jade would come to fill a hall,' but, unfortunately, saying nothing about the as yet undelivered goods. He was surprised, then, when Verity poked her head around some boxes in the storeroom and said, "There's a Mr Soong Huang Fu from the  _Flower Petal Trading Company_  here to see you, Ron." She smirked and then added, "He reminds me a bit, of George."

Puzzled by this remark, Ron replied, "Could you put him in the conference room, please Verity. I'll be there in a minute." The 'conference room' was actually little more than a tiny storeroom at the back of the shop that had been cleared out. It was far too dangerous to life and limb to allow any stranger into George's office, which was always cluttered with experimental products.

Ron entered the conference room and had to suppress a laugh. The visitor did indeed remind him of George. He was dressed in a near full length robe of golden silk, which was worn over an even longer gown of emerald green silk. The outer garment had deep voluminous sleeves and was emblazoned with dragon motifs. A white ruff around the neck and a crimson conical hat topped off the outfit. The whole effect was gorgeous and it was how George had been dressing since he had returned from China.

"Good afternoon, Mr Fu, I'm Ron Weasley, may I offer you some tea?" Ron remembered George talking about how important politeness and patience were when doing business with the Chinese.

"That's Mr Soong, Mr Weasley," replied the visitor without expression. Damn, that's right, the Chinese say their names backward. Ron apologised and then tried to engage in polite conversation. He was running out of things to say when Mr Soong abruptly switched to business.

"It is a most regrettable situation, Mr Weasley, most regrettable."

"Ah yes, most regrettable Mr Soong, but if you are referring to the late delivery of the protective cloaks, I have to say I have been having a very difficult time finding out exactly what the situation is. We had hoped to include cloaks in our Spring catalogue, but that wasn't possible."

"A thousand apologies, Mr Weasley. Please be assured that there will be no extra charges to your company for the additional costs the  _Flower Petal Trading Company_  has incurred as a result of certain difficulties in fulfilling your order."

"Difficulties, what difficulties?"

"Ah Mr Weasley it would be most inappropriate to burden you with troubles that are truly an internal matter for the  _Flower Petal Trading Company_. But good news, you can expect delivery of the new cloaks in three days' time."

"Mr Soong, these were products designed by  _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_. If something has gone wrong with the product we need to know."

"Please be at peace in this respect, Mr Weasley, nothing is wrong with the product."

"Then did we perhaps make a mistake in believing your company capable of manufacturing this product in the agreed timeframe?"

"I would be most upset if you were to think that the  _Flower Petal Trading Company_  was lacking the necessary capability."

"You must understand, Mr Soong, absent any reasonable explanation, it is difficult to believe anything else."

"You place me in a most embarrassing position, Mr Weasley. We take seriously our duty to protect our customers' treasures, but even a dragon finds it hard to control a snake. The original consignment of capes was removed from our London warehouse by persons not authorised to do so."

"They were stolen? When?"

"Three weeks ago."

"Mr Soong, three hundred  _Weasley_  protective cloaks are circulating on the London black market and you did not feel it important to inform us?"

"It is, as I said, a most regrettable situation."

oOo

"They must be bleedin mad, selling stuff like that to muggles," said Mundungus Fletcher.

"Yeah," said Billy the Fence looking a little pale.

"And fools to boot, stealing from the Weasleys. Don't they know how powerful that family has become?"

Billy the Fence cast an eye around the lockup.

"Almost as foolish as stealing from the Malfoys, I reckon."

"How was I supposed to know they'd get pardoned. Thought they'd all spend the rest of their days in Azkaban, di'n'i," said Mundungus. "Now I'm stuck with all this stuff. I can't unload it. If word got back to the Malfoys that I was the one what nicked all their stuff, I'd be dead right quick, wouldn'I?"

"You know, I have some clients who'd pay top price for some of this merchandise. Old Melvellio would love to have stuff that was taken from Malfoy Manor. He hates Lucius with a passion."

"He's not alone there, is 'e. It's too risky though. Nah, I'm going to have to dump all this. With this magic cloak caper, the heat is really going to be on. We can all expect to get raided. I can't afford to get caught with this stuff."

"Aren't you over reacting?" asked Billy. "Who cares about a few Muggle bank robberies, and old man Weasley is harmless."

"This new government does care about Muggles, and it's not Arthur I'm worried about, it's his two youngest sons and their friends. Dangerous lot, all of them and they don't much like me. I'm gonna be top of their list, arn'I?"

"If you say so."

Mundungus examined Billy closely. "You sure you don't know who did it?"

"Not a clue."

"Well, you are going to help me dump this stuff. You can get me a muggle shipping container for a start."

Mundungus spent the afternoon reducing much of the contents of the lockup to rubble, using the  _compacto_  spell. He was nearly brought to tears when he thought about how much money he was tossing away. Can't spend it in Azkaban, though. It was dangerous work too. Some of the pieces resisted being destroyed. One dresser exploded in a shower of wooden shards, rings, lockets and medallions. Mundungus just got a shield up in time to prevent being skewered by a large sharp splinter of wood. A chair tried to club him.

By the time Billy returned with a container on the back of a truck, only one piece remained of the Malfoy haul. When Mundungus pointed his wand at the dark rosewood sideboard the doors opened and the drawers flung out spilling a hundred wands onto the lockup floor.

"Geez, where did they come from?" asked Billy.

Mundungus, who could make a fair guess and didn't want to think about it, said nothing. He bent to gather the wands from the floor and then froze.

Mundungus could remember every wand that had been pointed at him in anger and he well remembered when this particular vine wand had been pointed at him and who was doing the pointing. He began sweating.

"What's wrong mate?" asked Billy.

"I recognise this wand."

"So? Just get rid of it. All these wands could probably link you to Malfoys"

"If the witch who owned this knew I had it and then destroyed it, she'd probably kill me."

"How would she ever know?"

"She'd know."

"Oh come on. Who are we talking about then?"

"Hermione Granger."

Billy laughed. "She's just a kid."

"Yeah I'm sure that's what effing Voldemort thought. Seen him around lately, 'ave you? She's bleeding scary, I tell you, especially when she's feeling righteous and her blood's up."

"Well what are you going to do? You can't destroy it and you can't keep it."

Mundungus thought for while then smiled. "I have a cousin, a muggle, like all Mum's side of the family. She's spent most of her life out of the country, but she's in Exeter at the moment doing some study. She thinks I work in the City, a respectable banker."

"Not real observant then," said Billy with a smirk.

"I'll send the wand to her for safekeeping. I'll put the usual muggle confounding charms on the package so she doesn't open it up. She'll feel compelled to hide it away somewhere and forget about it. Maybe someday I'll find a way of giving it back to Granger without implicating myself. Earn some keep out of Azkaban points."

Billy just shook his head.

Later that night, Mundungus dropped of a parcel into muggle post-box. He breathed a sigh of relief and headed on his way.

oOo

Unaware that at that very moment she was the subject of conversation in a dingy lock-up in East London, Hermione exited the lift on the second floor of the Ministry of Magic building which housed Magical Law Enforcement. She was still fuming at Arthur's parting remark and determined to demonstrate she could handle the responsibility given to her.

She quickly located the office of Marvin Hoffleshead and knocked.

"Ah, Miss Granger, nice of you to join us at last." Hoffleshead quickly introduced her to the two other occupants of the room, both officers of Magical Law Enforcement.

"We were afraid you were going to miss the fun Miss Granger. The Muggle police have identified the so called Phantom of Piccadilly, a no account petty crim name of Eddy Jordan. He's checked in to a flashy hotel in Soho. They have his suite cordoned off and are waiting for us to join them. The Muggle Police don't know who we are of course, they think we are MI5 or some such. They have been told to 'cooperate' but they don't much like it. I know how they feel."

Hoffleshead turned to the two Magical Law Enforcement officers, "Glenn, Ann could you go on ahead, we'll catch up in a minute." When they had left, he spoke to Hermione.

"I've been told that, when it comes to the Muggles, you have the authority to countermand my instructions. Let me be frank. I don't much take to outside interference in my investigations and I don't much appreciate anything that muddies the chain of command. So if you take issue with anything I'm doing, I expect you to come to me privately with it and accept my final decision. If you go beyond that you better be damned sure of your ground, because I will make an issue of it and you will be held accountable for your actions. Do I make myself clear?"

"Very," said Hermione who had turned white.

"Good, Now let's go and catch a crim."

Ten minutes later, they were standing in the corridor leading to the  _Dormer Suite_  in the  _Chesterfield Mayfair Hotel_. A police detective was giving Hoffleshead a briefing.

"Jordan checked in two days ago. He's been driving the staff crazy, girls coming and going all hours of the day and night, and him expecting to be treated like Lord Muck, just because he is flashing some cash around. That's how we tracked him, by the way, he has stupidly been using some of the money he got from the last bank he robbed."

"What do you know about him?" asked Hoffleshead.

"He's just a vicious young punk. Mugging is his normal modus operandi. It's stymied us how a non-entity like Jordan could have pulled off these robberies. Maybe that's something you guys could tell us about."

"I'm afraid I can't talk about that."

"Figures," said the detective.

"Once you secured the prisoner we will need twenty minutes alone with him. Then you can have him," said Hoffleshead.

"Not until we have secured the room and photographed and bagged all the evidence. Then you can interview Jordan, with me present."

Hoffleshead frowned. "You are aware that national security is at stake, Detective."

I have been ordered to cooperate with you, but not to the extent that the prosecution case is jeopardised or my prisoner is harmed. The little prick murdered three people and he is not getting off on a technicality."

"Very well, we will handle it as you say."

The detective nodded to the leader of the black clad SWAT team. One of them, a heavy set man with a thick muscular neck, swung an iron battering ram back and forth several times then smashed it into the door causing it to fly off its hinges and into the room chased closely by three men, rifles pressed to their shoulders.

A minute later a young woman, still dressing herself, rushed out of the room, past Hermione and down the corridor. One of the swat team poked his head out the door, yelling "All secure."

Hermione followed the detective, Hoffleshead, the two MLE officers and several policeman into the hotel suite.

Eddy Jordan was lying face down on the floor, his arms handcuffed behind him, swearing at a SWAT officer who had a knee pressed into Eddy's back.

"OK, we'll take it from here," said the detective to the SWAT leader who then led his team from the room. The detective helped Eddy to his feet then slammed him down onto the leather sofa. Meanwhile, the Muggle policemen started searching the room, bagging everything of interest. They were excited when they found the blue cape and black floppy hat in one of the wardrobes.

Hermione had already surreptitiously cast a charm detection spell over the room and knew the wardrobe contained magical items. She hit each of the muggles in the room and with a short sharp confounding spell, summoned the cape and hat, stuffing them into her voluminous handbag, and then quickly transformed a sheet and a pillow, stored in the same wardrobe, into a convincing replica of the missing objects. It was all done in a couple of seconds. The muggles experienced a moments confusion, shook their heads and then continued as if nothing had happened.

One of the muggle police, located the safe. The detective took a card from his coat pocket and punched in a code. Noticing Hermione's raised eyebrows, he smiled. "I thought a spook would know that all hotel safes have an override code." Hermione turned red.

The safe sprung open to reveal two hands guns. "Well now, Eddy, I think these two items are going to ensure you spend most of your miserable life in jail." Eddy just glared at the detective with hate in his eyes.

The detective indicated to his colleagues to leave the room and then he closed the door.

"These four people want ask you a few questions, Eddy. They're spooks, so they are not that fussed about the finer points of the law. If they don't like what you say, they just might turn you over to the CIA or maybe the Israelis. Would like that Eddy?"

Eddy's eyes widened with fear but he replied, "You're full of it."

As this exchange was going, on one of the MLE officers, Ann, moved into position behind the detective. She whipped out her wand and stunned the detective then used a levitation spell to gently lower him to the ground.

"What did you do to him?" asked Eddy, pushing back as far into the chair as far as he could, his eyes darting between each of the four magical humans in the room.

"You are asking the wrong question, Eddy. You should be asking what are we going to do with you If you don't tell us what we want to know," said Hoffleshead.

"I don't have to tell you squat. I want to see a lawyer right now."

"I think we both know that isn't going to happen. Now where did you get that blue cape?"

"I found it."

"And you just decided to put it on and see if bullets bounced off you. Don't treat us as idiots Eddy. It won't go well for you. Now I repeat, where did you get the cape?"

"I'm no snitch."

After a further ten minutes of fruitless questioning, Hoffleshead sighed and turned to Glenn, the other MLE officer. "It's time, I think." Glenn nodded.

"What are you planning," asked Hermione. She had become increasingly uncomfortable as the questioning continued. She had witnessed examinations of witnesses in Wizengamot enquiries and trials, but the last raw interrogation of a captive she was involved in was her own horrible ordeal at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Glenn here is a gifted legilimens."

"I need to speak with you in private, Mr Hoffleshead."

"Very well, Miss Granger." He indicated the separate bedroom of the hotel suite.

When they had both entered, Hoffleshead closed the door and placed a silencing charm on the room. Hermione felt distinctly uncomfortable.

"Now, what is it that you need to tell me that is so urgent that we are interrupting an important interrogation?"

"You can't just abrogate this man's rights and invade his mind with legilmency. It's illegal."

"I think you will find out, when you learn a little law Miss Granger, that a Muggle suspect in a crime has no legal right to avoid legilmency or any other non-destructive modes of interrogation."

"That law only applies if there is evidence that the Muggle has been involved in a magical crime or a crime with magical victims. That does not apply in this case. Bank robbery is a Muggle crime and there have been no magical victims. You have no reason to suspect that Eddy Jordan has broken any of our laws and so cannot legally use legilmency on him."

"He illegally received dangerous magical goods."

"It is illegal to sell or give dangerous magical articles to a Muggle, not for the Muggle to receive them."

"That's a mighty fine distinction you making. It flies in the face of time honoured MLE operating protocols."

"There nothing 'fine' about it. It's the plain law. If the people charged with enforcing the law don't obey it then, time honoured practice or not, we are on dangerous ground."

"Are you formally insisting, Miss Granger, that I refrain from using legilimens on this Muggle?"

"I'm asking."

"I'm afraid you will need to make it stronger than that?"

"Very well, then, I insist."

"So be it," said Hoffleshead, breaking into a broad smile. "Shall we return and continue our investigation?"

When they returned to the lounge area of the suite, Eddy was slumped on sofa, unconscious.

"Got what we need, Boss," said Glenn. "It was Billy the Fence who sold the stuff to this scumbag."

Hermione was furious. She'd been set up. She could feel her ears burn at the silent laughter of the MLE operatives.

"Now, Miss Granger, if you would be so kind as to hand over the evidence you so cleverly stashed in that bag of yours."

"Of course." She handed the cape and hat to Hoffleshead who examined the items closely.

"That's interesting," he said, reading the label on the cape. " _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes._ That's your boyfriend's business, isn't it," he said, looking at Hermione.

Hermione was unable to speak.

"I'm sure you weren't trying to conceal evidence, stashing those items in your bag, I'm sure you were only trying to keep them out of the hands of the Muggle police. But can you explain how these dangerous objects came into the possession of Billy the Fence?"

Hermione could only shake her head.

"This will have to be investigated, of course."

"Of course," replied Hermione, barely audible.

"Until the involvement of the Weasleys in this affair is cleared up, and given your relationship with them, it is only proper for you to stand down from this investigation, don't you agree Miss Granger?"

"Yes," replied Hermione.

"Your boss, Arthur Weasley will need to consider his own position very carefully as well. Please pass that on to him." Hoffleshead then turned to his MLE colleagues. "Glenn, Ann could you finish up here. Restore the good detective to his usual cheery self and make sure no one remembers anything they shouldn't. I'm going to get the ball rolling tracking down Billy the Fence."

Hermione didn't wait for Hoffleshead to leave; feeling humiliated and angry she left the suite ahead of him and apparated directly from the hotel lift to the Burrow. She would be having words with more than one Weasley tonight.

oOo

It had been a long day. Worst had been the hour long lecture with Monotone Morrie. Rumour had it that he had been using the same lecture for the last thirteen years, read out with no variation in tone or temperament.

Susan Herriot was surprised to see a parcel waiting for her at the door of her tiny studio apartment. She picked it up, entered the apartment and placed it on the kitchen table. She fixed herself a sandwich, took a hungry bite while pouring herself a glass of chardonnay and then sat down to examine the package. There was something about it that worried her. She sensed danger and she had learned to trust her intuition.

Susan's parents were in the diplomatic service. She had been born in Calcutta and had spent most of her childhood in foreign countries. She had the ability to sense things that others simply missed, which she put down to being exposed to so many cultures from a young age.

She sipped her wine. She knew she was going to open the package in the end, her curiosity always won out. Why delay the inevitable. Susan ripped open the package to reveal a scroll of soiled yellow paper tied with ordinary string and a long thin box. The scroll was a message from her cousin Mundungus Fletcher.

_Dear Susan,_

_I hope this missive finds you well. I need to ask you a small favour and hope you have the magnanimity of heart to akseed to it. I need to travel and would ask that you keep this box in safe keeping. I will call for it by and by._

_Under no circumstances should you open the box. I MUST INSIST on this._

_Your Cousin,_

_Mundungus Fletcher_

Susan laughed. She didn't like Mundungus. He called himself a merchant banker, but he reminded her of a Dubai pimp. She was certain that whatever he really did, it was shady, probably criminal. Did her cousin really think that merchant bankers wrote messages on scrolls of dirty yellow paper or used such flowery over the top language or couldn't spell? And did he think that his bald command would stop anyone opening the box?

Still, she did hesitate. The box could easily contain some stolen jewellery, it was the right shape for a chain or bracelet. Did she really want to become an accessory to a crime? Oh, caution be damned. She ripped off the lid and was surprised to see a wooden stick. It was elaborately carved and quite beautiful, but what was it for? It reminded her of a conductors baton, but were these so exquisitely decorated? Besides it had no handle.

She picked it up to examine it more closely. Immediately she was being squeezed from all sides, as if an invisible boa constrictor had wrapped itself completely around her. She couldn't breathe. At length the pressure eased and she was falling, landing hard on her knees on the stone floor, an excruciating jolt of pain shooting through her body. But why had the floor turned to stone? And why had the lights gone out. Susan wasn't able to pay any attention to these questions. She was too busy vomiting.


	3. A Dark Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron comforts Hermione and George returns from Berlin. Susan finds herself in a dark place.

When Ron arrived back at the Burrow, his parents and Percy were finishing up dinner. Hermione was nowhere in sight.

"Hello Dear," said Molly, "Your dinner is in the kitchen. How was Auror training?"

"Fine, Mum. Where's Hermione?"

"Ah," said Arthur, "She's in your room. She's had a bad day at work and I'm afraid she rather blames me for it."

"Not without reason, Arthur, your pushing the poor girl far too fast," said Molly.

"I suspect that is Minister Shacklebolt's doing rather than Father's," said Percy shrewdly, but Arthur gave no indication of hearing him.

"I'm going to check on her," said Ron heading for the stairs.

Arthur called him back. "Before you go, Son, there are a few things you need to know and something we need to discuss. Please sit down."

Ron was curious about what his father had to say and was keen to tell his family about the theft but was far more concerned about Hermione. However, he reluctantly did as his father asked.

"Do you know where George is, we've been trying to contact him all evening."

"Munich, he and Angelina decided, at the last minute, to attend a conference there:  _Capricious Compounds and Practical Potions_. He should be back in a couple of days."

"He may need to come back sooner," replied Arthur who then explained what had happened with the investigation.

Ron felt an increasing queasiness as he heard about the bank robberies. He was near apoplectic when he heard how Hoffleshead had as good as accused Hermione of interfering in the investigation to protect the Weasleys.

"That's contemptible. Who does this mushroom think he is? After all Hermione has done! In any case she had no way of knowing any Weasley product was missing. I only found out myself this afternoon." He then explained about the stolen consignment of capes.

"I didn't know that you were selling products that were proof against Muggle weapons," said Arthur

"We're not," replied Ron. "These capes were designed to protect against low level or ricocheted spells. After what happened to Dobby, George added protection against thrown knives, but bullets, no. I guess with some tweaking they could be made bulletproof, but not reliably and it wouldn't last long."

"Have you reported the theft yet?" asked Percy.

"No, I had to head off for Auror training. I told Harry, does that count?"

"I'm afraid it isn't going to be enough," said Arthur. "I have no doubt that any investigation will clear  _Weasley Wizard Wheezes,_ but our enemies are going to use this for all it's worth."

"I'm going to check on Hermione," said Ron.

"One more thing before you go, Ron. Hermione may be under the impression that you told me that her judgement in certain areas may, perhaps, be a tad suspect, especially in deciding when to take charge of a situation and when it may be wiser to hold back."

"Arthur!" said Molly.

"Bleeding Hell, Dad, she's going to kill me, why did you tell her that?"

"I misspoke. I meant to say that this was my deduction from various things you had told me over the years, and my own observations. I apologise to you and I will apologise to her when she decides to speak to me again. I don't resile from the observation though. She does need to use better judgement in exercising authority. She made some judgements today that were questionable and that made things look worse than they needed to. There are people who will jump on any mistake she makes to undermine her position. We need her too much to allow that to happen. Now go, Son, and take care of that wonderful girl of yours."

Ron needed no encouragement. He quickly climbed the stairs to their room and then, after taking a deep breath, opened the door.

"Go away," said Hermione.

"No," said Ron. He could feel Hermione's eyes bore into him as he crossed the room and sat on the end of the bed, facing her. "I hear you had a rough day, do you want to talk about it."

"What, so you can go and tell your Father how inappropriately I handled the situation?"

"I didn't say anything to Dad," said Ron calmly, firmly.

"That's not what he says." Her nostrils flared.

"I know, I'll let him explain that. I'm more concerned about you."

Hermione continued to glare at Ron, then abruptly her gaze softened and her chin began to quiver. "Oh, Ron, they all hate me."

Ron shimmied beside Hermione and took her in his arms. "No they don't, love, no they don't"

He held her tightly as she cried a little, and then little by little, he got her to laugh as he described his visit from Soong Huang Fu and his dealings with the  _Flower Petal Trading Company_  and their impeccable manners and impenetrable obfuscation.

They fell asleep in each other's arms and then, at one in the morning, they woke up ravenous and raided the kitchen. They talked through in detail the events of the previous day.

"You'll see," concluded Ron, "This will all blow over in a day or two. It's just a storm in a teacup."

When they returned to their bed, they made love and then slept soundly through the rest of the night.

They woke to the sound of Percy banging on their door. "Come on you two, it's a work day, the early wizard gets the Flobberworm."

"What does that even mean?" asked Ron of no one in particular.

When Ron and Hermione arrived downstairs for breakfast, Percy was scowling at the morning paper. "It seems that Father was right." He turned the paper so Ron and Hermione could read the headline of the  _Daily Prophet_ :

"Weasley link to Muggle killing spree," it declared in large bold letters.

"Bleeding hell," said Ron.

**oOo**

Captain Paul Longstreet watched the video footage for the fifth time. He had been tasked with writing an urgent report for his superior officers and for the Minister of Defence explaining how, in broad daylight, one of the British army's most secure military bases had been penetrated by persons unknown who, unseen by anyone, loaded three lorries full of some of the deadliest equipment in the army's inventory, including a dozen of the new Starstreak handheld anti-aircraft missiles, and calmly driven away without anyone noticing until, twenty minutes later, the remaining munitions exploded destroying at least a third of the base. Thank God most of the regiment were away on training manoeuvres, or the death toll would have been much higher than the current figure of eleven.

The footage made no more sense on the fifth viewing as it did on the first. He could see the lorries driven from the motor pool to the munitions loading dock. Then nothing, the lorries just stood there. No driver exited, nothing appeared to be loaded. However, when the lorries move half an hour later, another camera shows the trucks fully laden. As the lorries approach the main exit, the guards appear to be jerked backwards by an invisible force and dragged back into the guardhouse. The gates open and the lorries simply drive off serenely with no alarm raised. The gate guards were later found with their throats slit. It was likely that the staff in the munitions store had met the same fate, but after the explosion, very little evidence of that remained.

Captain Longstreet wondered if his career would survive if he wrote a report claiming that the base had been attacked by invisible assailants.

**oOo**

"Now, make sure you keep the lid on till you give the jar to your husband, Mrs Gamut," said Ron to the elderly witch who had just brought a trick jar of peanuts, "otherwise you'll never coax the ogre back into the jar."

"Don't worry, young man. I haven't lost my wits yet," she replied, as she stuffed the jar into an old tapestry bag.

"I bet she hasn't lost her wits," said Verity when the old witch had left the store, "though I think she might intend her husband to lose his." Verity smiled. "You better watch out Ron, you might be up on accessory to murder charges."

Ron laughed. "Just what I need at the moment, more trouble with the law."

The sharp clap of apparition, from right in the middle of the store, announced George's return.

"So, little brother, why have I been so rudely summoned with such graceless urgency. I had to forego a very interesting discussion on the use of fermented polliwogs in enhancing daydream potions."

"You know, George, one day you are going to cause a serious accident, apparating into the centre of the shop while it's open.

"Excessive caution is the hallmark of a small mind, or, in the case of your girlfriend, it's very opposite. Now why am I here?"

"Well, I suggest you change out of that Chinese costume to start with," said Ron who then briefed George on the situation. "At Dad's suggestion, both Hermione and I went into to MLE this morning to make formal depositions. We were each grilled for an hour. Not much fun. I promised to return this afternoon with copies of all our correspondence with the  _Flower Petal Trading Company_  and you."

"Then you better fetch the file, and then we can go in and put an end to this farce."

"Already have them," said Ron, holding up a satchel.

They both apparated to the Ministry and headed to the second the floor. The MLE office was in an uproar, loud conversations, people running in all directions. There were twice the number of people compared to when Ron had been there in the morning.

"What's going on," asked Ron of the welcome witch while they waited for Hoffleshead to see them.

The welcome witch made an exaggerated show of looking around to make sure no one was watching, also making sure that Ron got a good look at her cleavage. "There's been a Muggle terrorist attack on a UK army base using invisibility cloaks, or the like. Minister Shacklebolt is furious. He's demanding answers yesterday."

"Good thing we don't sell those," said George in an aside to Ron.

A few moments later they were both shown into Hoffleshead's office. Ron immediately noticed an crumpled invisibility cloak lying on Hoffleshead's desk. It was much cruder than Harry's, but would probably due a rough and ready job.

"I see you recognise this item, Mr Weasley."

"Of course, I've seen invisibility cloaks before, though this one is a bit rough and ready," replied Ron cautiously as he and George sat down.

"Perhaps you or your brother could explain how it was found at a Muggle Army base."

"Not a clue," replied George, "Shoddy work though. Whoever made it should be arrested on those grounds alone."

"Oh, we know who made it, it has their label inside, your label Mr George Weasley."

"Nonsense, we don't sell them," he replied.

"Obviously whoever stole our protective capes has simply swapped the label," said Ron

"Stolen from the mythical  _Flower Petal Trading Company_ , _"_  said Hoffleshead.

"Mythical, there is nothing mythical about them." Ron handed Hoffleshead the  _Flower Petal Trading Company_ correspondencefile.

"What is this?" asked Hoffleshead angrily. He threw the file into Ron's face, the contents of the file spilling out, spreading out all over the floor. Every single sheet was a blank, and as white a Ron's now blood drained face.

"Do you really hold us in such contempt, Mr Weasley?" continued Hoffleshead. "Today we visited the London offices of the  _Flower Petal Trading Company,_  which you assured me you had visited several times. Imagine our surprise when we found a long abandoned warehouse instead of a busy office. Everyone in the neighbourhood assured us the site had been empty for some time."

"We have clearly been set up," said Ron, saying the first thing that came to his mind as he struggled to get on top of his shock.

"If I had a galleon for every cornered criminal who said that to me, I'd be as wealthy as the Malfoys." He turned to George. "I understand you are the owner of  _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."_

"Yes, and I can assure you_"

"And are you the sole proprietor, Mr Weasley?"

George hesitated, "Well no, Ron, here, is a twenty per cent owner." Ron noted that George didn't mention Harry's five percent stake.

At a nod from Hoffleshead, two large wizards entered the room and stood behind George."

"Mr George Weasley, I am arresting you for conspiracy to supply dangerous magical goods to Muggles. Please hand me your wand."

Ron immediately jumped up, his hand instinctively reaching for his own wand, but George put a restraining hand on him. "It's OK, just tell Dad what's happened. We are innocent and it will work out."

George carefully drew out his wand and handed it to Hoffleshead. "Take good care of it, officer. Be warned, you have to sing it a lullaby in Mermish each night or it might turn into an Erumpent horn and explode. Best to do that underwater while you are taking a bath."

Hoffleshead just shook his head, saying to the two wizards standing behind George, "Take him away."

Hoffleshead turned to Ron. "As you are a member of the Wizengamot, I cannot arrest you without a warrant from the Wizengamot criminal affairs subcommittee. I assure you that is just a formality, though it may take a couple of days. I will also be forwarding charges against that smart little witch of yours for tampering with evidence and attempting to pervert the course of justice. So both of you enjoy the next two days, they may well be the last two days of freedom you two have for some years. Now get out of my sight."

Ron, not trusting himself to speak, stood up and staggered out of the office.

**oOo**

Susan's knees ached, her face was clammy and cold and she still felt nauseous. She sucked in deep draughts of fresh air into her lungs attempting to defeat the urge to be sick all over again. When her stomach had settled, Susan opened her eyes only to realise they were already open and she was in total darkness.

She forced herself to breathe steadily, deeply, slowly bringing under control the panic that had threatened to overcome her. Wherever she was, the darkness was almost complete. Even with her hand just inches from her eyes she could barely discern its outline.

Feeling around on the bare stone floor, careful to avoid the invisible yellow puddle she had made in front of her, she started to examine her immediate surroundings.

Warily, Susan got to her feet and expanded her area of exploration, pushing back against the dark induced disorientation and the nagging sense she was walking around in circles. Twice she stumbled and fell, aggravating her damaged knees, which she was sure were bloodied and grazed under her blue jeans. The second time she came up against the wall, she took of her belt and lay it down on the floor as a marker and, hugging the wall, circumnavigated her new domain. Further systematic searching and Susan knew she was in a circular room with stone walls and floors with only a rickety old table and an empty wooden crate for company.

Nowhere could she make out a door or any opening and that frightened her as much as anything else. She guessed there must be an opening in the ceiling, but she couldn't see to confirm that, nor could she reach it. She knew she had to stand up on the table and explore the ceiling, it might be the only way she could get out, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She was afraid the table would collapse or she would stumble in the dark and come crashing down on hard stone.

Instead, she sat down on the cold floor, her back to the wall, determined to think through her situation, but no thoughts came. Her arms fell slack by her side and tears welled up from her very depths. No, I won't cry, I won't give up. Susan jumped up and shoved the table against the wall. Gingerly she climbed up on it and, hugging the wall, slowly stood. Even on tip toes she couldn't reach the ceiling.

Numb now, trying not to think, she climbed down, felt around the room till she found the crate and pushed it over to the table. It was surprisingly heavy, but she got it up onto the table and against the wall. It overturned the first time she tried to climb on to it, almost throwing her onto the floor. She steadied her breathing and again climbed onto the crate. She still couldn't reach the ceiling.

Carefully she climbed down and, once more, slumped down on the floor.

This time she did cry.

She must have slept. When she opened her eyes it seemed as if there was just a little light in the room. Was she imagining it? No, high above her head a narrow shaft of light brought faint illumination and she could now just discern the high stone vault of the ceiling. She would have needed three crates to reach it, and all to no avail. She could see no trapdoor or any opening anywhere on the ceiling or the high walls.

It was still very dim in her stone cell and it did not brighten any further as morning progressed. Susan realised she was hungry and very thirsty, but there was no food or drink. She could well die in here if no one came to get her, but did anyone even know she was here? She didn't even know how she got here. All she could remember was touching that ridiculous stick her scumbag cousin Mundungus had sent her and, wham, she was here.

Did Mundungus know she was here, would he come for her. No, he said he was traveling. She broke out into hysterical laughter. The image of Mundungus as a knight in shining armour was as ludicrous as it was sickening.

With nothing better to do, she studied the floor, seeing if she could find any pattern in the faint patches of light and dark. There was a long stain on the floor that didn't fit. It dawned on her it was the stick that was the cause of her problems. Maybe if it brought her here it would take her back. Or to somewhere far worse? But what did she have to lose. She crossed the room and, with both hands picked it up and held it tightly. Nothing happened.

She paced furiously up and done and then swore when she stubbed her toe on the table leg. "Damn it, if only I had some effing illumination."

She was shocked when a tiny ball of light emerged from the tip of the stick. She laughed when it occurred to her that the little ball of light looked like the star at the end of a fairies wand. Swish, "Abracadabra, Open Sesame," but, of course, nothing happened. So much for the magic wand theory, she smiled. She recalled the old saying that sufficiently advanced technology was indistinguishable from magic. Outside of Science Fiction, she had never heard of any technology that transported you instantly form one place to another or could read your mind and give you the light you wanted, and all packaged into such a tiny implement.

Was that what this was, an alien artefact from an advanced civilisation? No wonder Mundungus was 'travelling'. If it had gone missing from some secret government lab and somehow fallen into Mundungus's grubby little paws, the heat would really be on.

So, she had this marvellous alien 'magic' wand. Fat good it did her, she had no idea how to use it. At least she could see, but the room was exactly as she had envisaged it, with no way out.

There was one new thing. On the wall someone had etched a tic-tac-toe grid. They had even placed an X in the top left hand cell. On a whim she touched the cell below the X with her wand. She jumped back in surprise when an O appeared where she had tapped the wall. Almost immediately another X appeared, placed in the centre of the grid. So you want to play. She blocked the corner position but lost the game two moves later. Immediately there was a loud grinding sound that made her cringe and, slowly, the walls closed in one foot on every side.

"Don't expect me to play that again," she said out loud, but the grid cleared and started flashing. After a minute, with no action coming from Susan, the flashing stopped. The grinding started and the walls moved in another foot. An X appeared on the grid.

Susan drew the next two games but then lost again and the walls closed in even further. Susan knew there was a way of always forcing a draw in tic-tac-toe and, her mind wonderfully concentrated, she worked it out. For the next hour it was draw after draw with Susan growing ever more despondent. Was she going to spend the rest of her life playing tic-tac-toe with this insane wall until she finally fell asleep and it crushed her to death?

A few games later the wall made a mistake.

Hope fired up in Susan. Maybe when I win, the wall will open up and I can get away. With a flourish of her wand, she made the winning move. All of a sudden she was unsteady on her feet and almost lost her balance She looked down to see she was rapidly sinking into the floor. It had turned into a quicksand like cement. She frantically tried to grab something, but there was nothing to grab. The table was too far away and in any case was sinking also. Her lower body was now completely sunk into the floor and she could feel it's wet icy sucking grip. When she had sunk in up to her neck, she cursed Mundungus and then, in horror that her last act would be a curse, Susan said a final prayer.


	4. Ancient Rites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione invokes an ancient right.

Arthur surveyed the people gathered around the dinner table at the Burrow: Molly, frightened and angry, Bill, steadfast, Fleur, nursing little Victoire, radiant, her steel sheathed for the moment as it almost always was, Percy, eager, perpetually keen to redeem himself, Ron, barely controlling his fury, spoiling for action, Hermione, frightening, dangerous, Ginny, calm, alert, poised in readiness and Angelina, who had rushed back from Munich as soon as she heard George had been arrested, upset, frightened, ready for anything. He loved every single one of them and was proud of every single one of them. His family was under attack again, this time by an unknown and unseen enemy, but there was real strength around this table, and true goodness and he had to believe that would be enough.

"Where's Harry?" he asked.

"After the attack on the army base, the Aurors have been dragged into the investigation and Harry's team is involved, but it is being kept at the edges of the investigation," said Ginny. "There were grumblings about Harry's being involved at all, but no one wanted to complain on the record. There are advantages to being Harry Potter. He has been instructed to have no contact with the Weasley's or he's off the case completely. He's decided he will be of greater use to us on the case rather than off it."

"E 'as been told 'e can not see 'is fiancée? That is barbaric," said Fleur.

"They made an exception in my case," said Ginny, "but he has been told he cannot discuss the case with me. Mind you, if Harry should happen to talk in his sleep…" Arthur noted the smirk on Ginny's face, almost inviting her family to comment, but they had all long since tacitly accepted her sleeping arrangements, if some more readily than others. He ignored Ginny's challenge and addressed his family.

"Tonight, George, is in the holding cells at the Ministry of Magic. Ron and Hermione are both facing serious criminal charges. Clearly someone has gone to great lengths to set up this situation. The question is who, how and why and what do we do about it."

"That's four quest…," Percy began to say, but stopped himself. He started again. "I think the why is fairly obvious. We have created more than a few political enemies with our support for reform. Also Minister Shacklebolt is seen as closely allied to us. Attacking us damages him also. We could start by looking at political enemies with close ties with China. They would have needed those to pull this off."

"I'd like to go to China and get my hands on our contacts there," said Ron.

"I think you'll find that all traces of the  _Flower Petal Trading Company_ have disappeared as thoroughly there as they have in London," said Hermione. "In any case, we can't leave the country, not till we've been cleared of all charges."

"I'd be following the money trail," said Bill. "We won't get anything out of the wizarding banks, but every transaction between the muggle and wizard banks leaves a clear trace. Money must have been paid by the terrorist organisation. If we can find a pattern it will tell us a great deal about who, where and how. Unfortunately, as we are shut out of the investigation, we won't be able to access those records."

"Maybe Harry can investigate that," said Ron.

"I'm afraid not, Son," said Arthur, "That part of the enquiry will be handled by MLE, they have the expertise and you can be sure they will share as little of it as possible with the Aurors. You can also be sure they will be going through the finances of  _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_  with a fine tooth comb, so I hope everything else is in order there."

"It is," replied Ron, "at least since we reopened after the war. During the war, Fred and George siphoned off money to support resistance activities and did a few other things that were not strictly legal. But we all broke the law during the resistance."

"Surely, George, Ron and Hermione will eventually be cleared. They are innocent," said Angelina, biting her lower lip.

Hermione jumped in. "We can't rely on that. Hoffleshead took an instant dislike to me and is convinced of our guilt. He won't be looking at ways to clear us. He see me as an interfering little mudblood."

There was sudden silence. Molly's hand flew to her chest.

Arthur felt a cold hand wrap around his heart and he spoke gently. "Hermione, I won't have that word spoken around this table, even by you."

Hermione's eyes blazed hard. "Why not? It's the truth. I can see it in people's eyes when I'm placed in charge. Who are you to be giving us orders, mudblood."

"It's not the truth, Hermione. And it's not remotely close to the truth of who you are," replied Arthur, "And you're wrong about Hoffleshead. He was twice demoted for refusing to cooperate with the Muggle-born Registration Commission. In the end he was forced to flee the country. If I remember correctly, his mother is a muggle. Hoffleshead's is the sort of person who would dislike anyone who he saw as interfering with his investigation. If there was anything personal about it, it would be because of your youth. We have already had this conversation."

"Whatever his motivations," continued Hermione defiantly, "he made it more than plain that he doesn't like me at all and that has prejudiced him against Ron and George. He won't be looking to help us and we can be certain whoever is behind this has something else up their sleeve. I'd be surprised if several more heavy blows were not planned. We have to get back into the game, into the centre of this investigation, and right away, or we will get swallowed."

"I don't see how that is possible, Hermione. At best it will take weeks to complete the investigation against you. Given the thoroughness with which this Chinese company has covered its tracks, it will almost certainly take longer," said Bill.

"We can't wait. We must act now. I am going to demand to be weighed."

Everyone looked at Hermione with blank faces. Finally, Percy understood. He looked horror struck.

"You can't do that, Hermione, they'll rip you to pieces and lay you bare."

"Let them try!"

oOo

She was going to die, embalmed forever in this unnatural, cold, wet, liquid stone. Only her eyes were now above the floor of what was had been her prison cell. Susan closed them as they too sunk below the surface.

No one would ever find her. Her parents would waste their final years, heartbroken, searching fruitlessly for her, burning their friendships with incessant demands for help, throwing away their money hunting down blind alleys.

That slime ball Mundungus wouldn't let on he knew anything.

Mungungus.

Munfungus.

She desperately needed to breathe.

An image of her fifth birthday flashed in her mind. That was when they were in Paris. She was all concentration as she blew out the candles on the big rich chocolaty cake. Her parents were beaming, wearing silly party hats. Her big sister was making a face.

She remembered galloping along the beach at Phuket, her hair flying free, the power of her horse, her power. She remembered her first kiss, a boy from the German embassy, Klaus. That was at Phuket too, when she was fourteen. They had sat on the beach, holding hands, glorying in the golden sunset, their futures, like the ocean, stretching shimmery, endless, unfathomable into the distance.

It was so unfair. She was so young, her life was only just beginning.

Her lungs were burning. She needed to breath. Why didn't she just open her mouth and suck in the liquid stone.

She had a date tonight, with Steve, or was it last night? It didn't matter; she wasn't going to make it. Steve reminded her of Klaus. Did Klaus still remember her. She knew Steve wouldn't.

I must breathe!

My legs are numb. No, no they're just no longer encased in cold stone. They're free dangling. I'm coming through the other side!

Don't breathe! Don't Breathe! For dear life don't breathe.

My arms are free. Aghh.

Susan landed hard on the floor below and lay there aware only of the searing pain in her lungs as she sucked in great gulps of air. For minutes she could do nothing else, then, as the pain in her lungs subsided she registered the pain from other abused parts of her body. Her injured knee, re-assaulted, throbbed and her elbow sent waves of pain through her arm.

Susan took her time and deliberately calmed her breathing and then, slowly, she opened her eyes. There was nothing to see, the darkness was near total. Well at least she was alive. For now. She sat on the floor hugging her knees. She was surprised to find she was still clutching the 'magic wand' or 'alien' device or whatever the stupid stick was.

The stick had given out light in the cell above, but she couldn't remember how that had happened. She twisted it, tapped it, waved it about, cried out "Let there be light," but nothing happened.

She felt tears welling but she pushed them down. I did this before, I can do this again. I just have to be calm, systematic. She racked her brains trying to remember how the light had started before, but she couldn't remember. All that she could remember was that she was desperate for light. OK then.

She held the alien stick upright in her right hand, like a torch, and filled her mind with an image of the room swelling with light, enfolding the image with deep longing. "Illuminate, Illuminate, Illuminate."

Light shot from the end of the wand, forming a ball that lit the room. It was much larger than the cell she had earlier occupied. The floor, walls and ceiling were all rough stone. A dozen or so cardboard cartons were stacked near one of the walls. Her hopes rose when she saw that one end of the dungeon-like room narrowed merging into a corridor. A heavy steel door had originally blocked access to the corridor but it had been blown off its hinges and lay on the corridor floor. Susan rushed to the corridor, eager for escape but, around the corner, the ceiling had collapsed and the way was blocked by heavy rocks that she had no chance of moving.

Feeling all the aches and pain in her weary body, she walked back to the dungeon and resumed her exploration. She pushed past the boxes and came to an abrupt halt. She dropped the wand, and grabbed the stack of boxes to prevent herself collapsing completely. It was only later she realised she was screaming.

She stood there, unable to move, her legs threatening to collapse beneath her. She knew she had to pick up the wand and rekindle the light, she knew she couldn't run from what she had seen, that she had to confront it, but she just couldn't do it.

You must do this, she told herself, you must know, you must understand the situation you are in or you may as well lie down and wait for the death that will surely come.

Slowly she reached out and picked up the wand and then ,holding it high before her, turned to face the nightmare that had so shaken her. There were two skeletons seated, side by side. Judging by the patches of long golden hair that still clung tenaciously to the scalp, the first was that of a woman. It wasn't the bones of the woman that had scared her, but the woman's companion in death. The second skeleton was small, the size of a child, but this was no child. This was no human. The bones were heavy set, the fingers unnaturally long, the feet, misshapen and oversized. The dome shaped skull was as large as that of an adult human but protruded far further at the back than any human skull. Susan could have accepted this, she had half accepted the idea of aliens and that the wand was alien technology. But she couldn't accept the teeth. They were needle pointed daggers, designed to rip living prey to shreds, like a wolf, like a shark. They had no place in the mouth of a benign, advanced alien. They chilled her to her very depths.

She tried to concentrate on analysing the situation. Why had these two died here? Why had no one come for them? Were they friends or enemies. Had they blown the iron door and then been trapped by the landslide? Did the blast kill them? Were there more than one kind of alien? A thousand questions crowded Susan's mind and she realised she had nowhere sufficient information to answer any of them. She continued exploring the rest of the Dungeon.

One of the boxes was nearly filled with tins of sardines, another two contained large bottles of spring water. Suddenly aware of how hungry and thirsty she was she hastily devoured several cans of sardines and a bottle of water. It was only when she was finished eating that the thought struck her that maybe it was this food that killed her cell mates. Too late now.

She found nothing else of note in the dungeon. Most important she found no other wand or alien technology. Maybe that's why they couldn't get out. Without their technology maybe the aliens were helpless.

Well she had a wand. Maybe, just maybe she could use it to escape. Susan squatted on the floor and held the alien wand as firmly as she could with both hands. She started chanting with all the earnestness she could muster "Get me out of here , get me out of here…"

But nothing happened.

oOo

Hermione's throat was dry. She was glad that she had had no breakfast and there was nothing for her rebellious stomach to bring up. She looked at Ron, seated beside her in the dock in the Wizengamot chamber. This could go very wrong. Ron could be seriously mauled and other people she loved could be badly hurt. She was having second thoughts about her impetuous decision, made in anger, to subject herself to this ordeal.

The Wizengamot was packed. News that there was to be a witch weighing, the first in thirty years, had spread like Fiendfyre. And not just one, but two weighings.

Even after extra chairs had been scrounged from nearby offices and jammed into every bit of spare space, the public gallery was overflowing. Sharp elbows and a sharper quill had gained Rita Skeeter a front row position. Cantilena Misslethorpe from  _Witch Weekly_  was drooling in anticipation of the feast to come; the lives of two of her favourite victims laid bare for all to see.

 _The Ordeal of Witch Weighing_  had a long and gruesome history. In Medieval times, it was used to determine the guilt of a witch or wizard accused of  _Muggle Tendencies_. Heavy counter weights were placed on one pan of large balance. The accused, wandless and restrained, was placed on the other pan, suspended over a vat of boiling oil. Bit by bit, the counterweights were removed. Everyone knew that if the accused was free of  _Muggle Tendencies_ , she would be able to stay above the oil and thus prove her innocence. Many were found guilty.

 _The Ordeal of Witch Weighing_  was reformed over the centuries and it became the right, if not a very popular one, for any member of the Wizengamot accused of a crime to demand a weighing to establish their innocence.

In 1870, use of Veritaserum replaced use of thumbscrews and Witch Weighing enjoyed a brief spurt of popularity among members of the Wizengamot. It was soon learned, though, that, even for the innocent, unrestricted and unremitting questioning by one's fellow members was just as destructive as boiling oil, as painful as thumbscrews. Rare indeed was the accused with no misdeeds in their past, with no shameful secret, with no alliances at risk of breaking when true objectives were revealed, with no well concealed opinions that would turn away their supporters, appal their friends and arm their enemies, with no confidences they dearly wished to keep and with no friends who could be deeply hurt when the accused's unvarnished appraisal of the friend was expressed.

The procedure was reformed again in 1930, limiting questioning to matters relevant to establishing guilt or innocence of the crime of which they were accused. As character and prior misdeeds were considered relevant, this did not much improve matters. The last member of the Wizengamot who, indignant at being falsely accused of murder, invoked the right to a  _Witch Weighing_ , found himself confessing to defrauding his partners twenty years earlier, an act he had so long justified to himself he no longer thought of it as a crime.

Ron smiled at Hermione and took her hand in his. "It's going to be fine, Love."

Ron had far too much faith in her cleverness. If she had miscalculated this could go disastrously wrong. So much depended on her assessment of just one individual: his integrity, his way of thinking and his moral courage.

"The Wizengamot will come to order," bellowed the Speaker. A profound silence fell over the chamber. Everyone was clearly eager to hear every last word, every dirty little secret.

The Speaker continued. "Serious charges have been laid against two members of this Chamber and they have invoked the right to Ordeal by Witch Weighing." She looked down at her notes, shuffling them. "We will start with the accusations against Hermione Jean Granger, Order of Merlin First Class, member of this chamber by right of that award."

Damn, thought Hermione. She had hoped that Ron would be questioned first. Now it would be up to Ron to make the case, matching wits with perhaps the smartest wizard in the Chamber, while Hermione was under the influence of Veritaserum, unable to help.

"Hermione Jean Granger," intoned the Speaker, "You are charged with attempting to conceal evidence and attempting to pervert the course of justice. How do you say?"

"Not guilty."

"Whom do you appoint as Defender?"

"I appoint Ronal Bilius Weasley as my defender."

It was the job of the Defender to challenge any inappropriate questions. A second person, the Arbiter, would then decide on the challenge. As the accused's choice of Arbiter had to be endorsed by a two thirds vote of the Wizengamot, it was rarely possible to nominate a close ally or friend.

"Whom do you nominate as Arbiter?"

"I nominate Oliver Hieronymus Grantham."

There was a ripple of shock through the chamber. Grantham was a pureblood, a staunch conservative and a ferocious opponent of many of the policies supported by Kingsley Shacklebolt and his allies including Hermione and the Weasleys. The previous year, Hermione had published two articles in the Quibbler highly critical of Grantham's political outlook. It would be hard for the Wizengamot to vote down the nomination but it was clear that many were deeply surprised at the choice.

"Oliver Grantham, do you accept the nomination?"

"I do."

A vote was taken and Grantham's appointment was endorsed with only a handful of abstentions.

"Let us proceed. Healer Duckworth please administer the veritaserum."

There were two Healers in attendance, one to administer the truth potion and to confirm that the accused had not taken any antidote or used any counter spell, the other, an accomplished legilimens, to constantly monitor the accused's mind and ensure she was not using occlumency or any other mental techniques to thwart the veritaserum.

Hermione felt euphoric and increasingly light headed as the potion coursed through her blood, but this only lasted for a minute and then she felt absolutely normal. She was beginning to worry that she was one of those who were immune to veritaserum when the first question came from a stout witch with long blue hair.

"Have you committed any crimes and, if so, could you list them?"

Hermione was considering how to answer this when she was shocked to discover she was already talking. It was if someone else had taken over her vocal chords and all Hermione could do was listen.

"Yes, I have committed many crimes," Hermione heard herself say. "I have broken into Gringotts bank and stolen a valuable artefact from a private vault, escaping on a stolen dragon and causing much property damage. I illegally penetrated the Ministry of Magic, interrupted court proceedings, stole a broach and released prisoners awaiting trial. I failed to register with the Muggle-born Registration Commission, I camped in Muggle national parks without a permit, I stole food and clothing from Muggles (although I always left money), I knowingly induced Dolores Umbridge to endanger her life through her own stupidity, I resisted arrest and escaped from custody, I_"

"Please stop, Miss Granger," said Grantham. "We are all aware of your heroic activities during Voldemort's reign. Could please interpret  _crimes_  to means crimes that were not expunged by the Amnesty for Acts of Resistance legislation. Please continue."

"In Paris, when I was thirteen, I used underage magic to straighten my hair. I_"

"Stop," said Ron, jumping to his feet. "As Defender, I request that you limit answers to the period after Hermione became of age. Juvenile crimes are hardly relevant to charges levied against her and we will be wasting the chambers time listening to a long list of childish misdemeanours."

"While I sympathise with your sentiments, Mr Weasley, there is no legal basis for them. We cannot know how relevant juvenile crimes are until we know what they are. Nor is tedium a valid reason for compromising procedures, though I do ask that other questioners try and formulate their questions with more precision. Proceed Miss Granger."

"During my third year at Hogwarts, I rescued a Hippogriff, condemned to death by the Ministry as a dangerous beast. I then illegally used a Time-Turner and the rescued Hippogriff to help the convicted murderer Sirius Black escape custody. I am not aware of committing any other crimes."

Hermione was horrified by what she had just said; She hadn't thought about Sirius Black. Although many people were now aware that Sirius was innocent of murder, he had never been formally cleared, nor was her and Harry's role in liberating him known beyond a very small circle. This could damage Harry's standing in the Aurors. There were few worse crimes than aiding and abetting a murderer, even if they were just thirteen at the time.

"Who else was involved in liberating this convicted murderer," asked a pointy faced wizard with malicious eyes.

 _Object Ron! Object!_  But he didn't

"Harry Potter and Professor Dumbledore," Hermione heard herself say.

"Why did you rescue Sirius Black," asked Elphias Doge, the oldest member of the Wizengamot.

_Thank you Elphias!_

"We had absolute proof that Peter Pettigrew, the wizard Black was convicted of murdering, was still alive and in the service of Voldemort. Pettigrew effectively admitted, in our presence, to having faked his own murder. Unfortunately, he escaped before we could bring him to justice. Minister of Magic Fudge refused to believe us and gave the order for the Dementors to give Sirius Black the Kiss. We had no choice."

The speaker gave the nod to a short dumpy witch called Esalda. Hermione always got the impression that Esalda loathed her. She was dreading the question that might come.

"The charges against you are based on the assumption you acted to protect the Weasleys, Ron and George. What is your relationship to these two men and how far would you go to protect them? Would you cover up their crimes?"

_Ha, is that the worst you can do?_

"George Weasley is like a brother to me, I love him dearly. It was he and his twin Fred who taught me that irreverence and disrespect for petty rules were no barriers to goodness, generosity or making a positive difference in the world."

_George is going to tease me to death._

"Ron Weasley is my best friend, my lover, the person I love most in the world, the best man I know."

_Sorry Harry._

"He is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with."

_See, Ron, you don't need to worry. You can offer me that ring I know you have in your pocket._

"How far would I go to protect them? I would risk my life to save George and give my life to save Ron. Would I cover up their crimes? I don't know, the situation hasn't arisen. I do know that if Ron committed an evil act, such as the crime he is accused of, it would rend my soul in two."

_Oh that was good,_

Rufus Lazarre got to his feet and was given the nod. "Let's cut to the chase. Did you commit the crimes of which you were accused?"

"No I did not. As to concealing evidence, I acted simply to secure the evidence and to keep magical items out of the hands of the Muggle police. I had no knowledge at the time that the cape and hat were actually Weasley products. As to attempting to pervert the course of justice, I merely insisted the investigating officer obey the law. That cannot be a crime. Apart from insisting the investigation be conducted lawfully, I acted in no way whatsoever to hinder, divert or pervert the course of justice."

A pompous looking wizard got to his feet, and seemed to look down on Hermione from a great height.

"As a Muggle-born do you concur with the International statute of Wizarding Secrecy and do you think it wrong to deny Muggles all the benefits of magic."

_Now's your time Ron, go for it!_

"I object, the question is irrelevant!"

"How so Mr Weasley?" asked the Arbiter, Oliver Grantham. "The question clearly relates to motive, values and to character."

"Oh, we've got lots of questions that go to character," said Esalda sneering. Many of those around her chuckled. Hermione could almost see the baseball bats they were itching to use on her.

Ron pressed on. "Under the reforms of 1930, only questions relevant to establishing guilt or innocence can be asked."

"And questions relating to character are specifically included in that category," said Grantham.

"No, they are only included amongst the type of question that might be relevant. The statute says, and I quote, ' _only questions, including questions relating to character and prior acts, that are relevant to establishing guilt or innocence can be posed to the accused._ '"

_Go get em, Ron_

"It is an interesting distinction but I fail to see your point," said Grantham.

"The accused has already denied all guilt in the matters under investigation by this witch weighing. The attendant healers have certified that the accused is under the influence of Veritaserum and have detected no attempt by the accused to block its affects using occlumency or any other mental discipline. Therefore, to all reason, the accused has already established her innocence. No additional question can add or subtract from that position. It must be concluded that all further questions are irrelevant."

_Yeah, Ron!_

"That is a novel take on these proceedings. It has always been the accepted understanding that questions continue till every last member has asked all the questions they care to ask.'

"You are not bound by accepted practice," said Ron, "but by the plain meaning of the written law. As Arbiter, you are not bound by precedents set by earlier Arbiters, but by your duty to use your intelligence and your best judgement to interpret what the law truly means and then to do what it actually requires of you."

Grantham lowered his head, almost closing his eyes. He began to rub his chin. Hermione's heart stopped. This was the critical moment. This was when she would learn if her enormous gamble had paid off, whether her assessment that Grantham's remorseless intelligence and his self-image as a man committed to integrity and intellectual honesty would outweigh his innate conservatism and love of tradition.

It was more than a minute before Grantham spoke. "Your argument, Mr Weasley, rests on the assumption that Veritaserum is 100% foolproof."

"That assumption, Mr Grantham, is embedded in the very law," replied Ron. "Just as in ancient times, when the law assumed that if a witch could avoid the burning oil that her innocence was established, the current law assumes that if the witch can deny the accusations under Veritaserum that her innocence is established. The law assumes it so you must assume it. But is not just the law that demands it. Reason does too. There is no documented case of anyone lying under Veritaserum under the conditions observed here. Therefore you can accept my position knowing that both the law and justice are properly served."

Grantham slowly nodded.

"I declare the witch Hermione Jean Granger, right and truly weighed, and found innocent. Henceforth let no witch or wizard accuse Hermione Jean Granger of these crimes on pain of the displeasure of the Wizengamot."

And it was over.

The Healer rose to give Hermione the anti-dote to the Veritaserum, but Hermione waved her off. "Just a moment please." She turned to Ron. "Before I'm given the anti-dote I just want to say that that was brilliant, and, see, no tone of surprise. I would trust you with my very soul and think it safe."

The healer jabbed Hermione in the arm and whispered in her ear, "Best not us girls give away all our secrets."

Half an hour later it was Ron's turn. His weighing didn't take very long. The first questioner went straight to the point and Ron was quickly able to deny any guilt and establish the truth of his statements to the MLE. Grantham quickly brought proceedings to an end and declared him innocent.

* * *

All reviews welcome: critical, complimentary, comical and commentary. Thanks for reading.


	5. On The Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione rejoins the investigation.

 

Heads turned and whispers followed as Hermione strode purposefully through MLE headquarters heading straight for the office of Marvin Hoffleshead. It was only two hours since she had been cleared of all charges levied against her.

Hoffleshead, who was talking to a colleague in the open office, looked up and watched her approach.

"Welcome back, Granger. We need to talk." He ushered Hermione into his office, closed the door, walked around his desk and then sat down.

"First of all, let me apologise, I misjudged you. Given your history, I should have had greater faith in your integrity but on the evidence, or lack of it when it comes to this  _Flower Petal Trading Company,_ well… _"_

"You judged me the moment you set eyes on me. Your attitude to me means that much time and effort has been wasted looking in the wrong place and you still have George Weasley in custody when there isn't a shred of evidence against him."

Hoffleshead didn't flinch. There was even the hint of an approving smile.

"George Weasley was released ten minutes ago, and you are wrong; I judged you even before I set eyes on you. I don't much take to outside interference. In my experience it generally comes from people wanting exert political pressure on an investigation or steer it away from someone with the right connections. And then you are, what, only 20 and have been working in the Ministry for all of five minutes. It's easy to forget what you have already achieved. I was reminded of that this morning at the Wizengamot."

"You were there?"

"Of course. I was hoping to pick up all juicy details of how you and the Weasley boys committed these crimes. I had even organised for some pertinent questions to be asked."

"I suppose you are going to arrest me now for helping a convicted murderer escape?"

This time Hoffleshead did laugh. "I might arrest Dumbledore if he were still alive, but a couple of thirteen year olds who did the right thing under the direction of their headmaster, I don't think so. Now, please, can we start afresh. I am sure you are just as keen as I am to get to the bottom of these crimes."

"Very much so."

"Good," said Hoffleshead, "Then let me bring you up to date. We have been talking to all known associates of Billy the Fence, trying to track him down. No luck as yet."

"The Muggle police have done better. We gave them photos of Billy and they got a couple of hits in their CCTV surveillance records. He was spotted two days ago driving a rented truck in East London, very close to a storage facility we suspected was being used by known criminal, Mundungus Fletcher. Billy was spotted again two hours later in the same truck, this time accompanied by a person who could be Fletcher, the picture isn't clear enough to be certain."

"Mundungus is hard to mistake for anyone else," said Hermione.

Hoffleshead's eyebrows raised. "You know Mundungus Fletcher?"

"We've had some unfortunate run ins in the past," Hermione gave Hoffleshead a brief description of Mundungus's dubious contribution to the war effort.

"Well, we raided the lock-up. We found Fletcher alright but nothing to tie him to Billy the Fence or any of the crimes. We interrogated him for hours but got nowhere. We had to let him go. We did confiscate the contents of his lock-up, though.

We've been putting a lot of heat on known associates of Billy, raided their various hidey-holes and confiscated a large amount of stolen goods and contraband but, unfortunately none of it is the stuff we are looking for. You are welcome to inspect the records of interview and the confiscated material if you'd like."

""Yes, I'd like that very much," replied Hermione.

"Talk to Ann after we have finished, she'll organise it for you."

"Good, I will. Is anyone looking at the money trail?" asked Hermione,

"Yes, we have some people working on that, but I don't expect much. Gringotts and other Wizarding banks are notoriously protective of their clients privacy."

"I was thinking more of any interactions between any wizarding bank and known Muggle terrorist groups. I understand any such transaction leaves a trace in the Muggle system. The same for Billy the Fence. There may well be traces of his activity in the Muggle system as he was clearly also operating in that world."

Hoffleshead frowned. "The Muggle authorities are working on that aspect. They will report anything they find and I'll copy you in on it."

"No, that isn't good enough, I'd like to be directly involved in the liaison effort with the Muggle authorities in this area," said Hermione.

"I don't see how that is possible, Granger. Maintaining wizarding secrecy is paramount in liaison activities. It takes training and a special skill set to carry it off."

"I am Muggle-born, as I am sure you know. I have spent more of my life in the Muggle world than in the wizarding one. How hard do you think it would be for me to pose as a Muggle?"

"Yes, but you have no training in accounting or banking."

"I won't be posing as an accountant. I'll be posing as a mysterious and secretive spook from MI5. Really I don't see any problem."

Hoffleshead sighed. "Very well, I will set it up. Now one more thing…" but he was interrupted by a ball of light that appeared in his office and swelled into the form of a glowing porcupine.

"Boss, we've located Billy the Fence. He was seen entering a terrace house in Parkholme road in Hackney. He hasn't left yet. I've got both front and rear of the house under surveillance. What do you want me to do."

"Good work, Glenn. I'll get an Auror over there right now to set up an anti disapparition field. If Billy makes a move to leave arrest him. We'll set up a raid for exactly one hour's time. OK"

"OK," said the porcupine, and then disappeared.

"Excuse me, Granger, but I have things to organise. Why don't you have that chat with Ann. You are welcome to join us on the raid." He stood up, spoke briefly to one of his colleagues and then left the office, striding briskly in the direction of the Auror Office.

Fifty minutes later Hermione arrived at the command post set up by MLE close to the targeted house in Hackney. She saw Harry chatting with a couple of MLE officers. Just at that moment Hoffleshead also arrived and sought out Glenn who was standing near Hermione.

"Anything to report Glenn?" asked Hoffleshead.

"He's still in there. He opened the door about twenty minutes ago, looked around and then went back inside. Ten minutes ago he opened a back window. There's been no further activity."

"OK let's get this show on the road. We go in five minutes." Hoffleshead then moved around the rest of his team, checking preparations and giving encouragement. Hermione had to admit he knew what he was doing and ran a professional operation.

They hit the back and front of the house simultaneously, doors shattering in a spray of splinters, a dozen wizards following fast in the wake. It was over in seconds. Glenn emerged from the house moments later and approached Hoffleshead. "Billy's dead, stabbed." There was blood on Glenn's trousers.

"What? How? You checked he was alone? Is there anyone else in the house now?" Hoffleshead was walking quickly toward the house. Hermione scurried after him, eager to keep within earshot.

"There is no one else in the house now except our own people, Sir", replied Glenn, struggling to keep up with Hoffleshead and speak at the same time. "He was alone when we arrived, I used  _Homenum Revelio_  myself to confirm that."

" _Homenum Revelio_  can be blocked, Glenn," said Hoffleshead.

"We are talking about about a petty criminal here, Sir, not a powerful dark wizard."

"You said that Billy opened the front door about twenty minutes ago," said Hermione.

Both Glenn and Hoffleshead jerked around, surprised to see Hermione there and taking part in their conversation. Hoffleshead frowned, but the frown slowly changed to a smile.

"Yes that's right Miss Granger," replied Glenn.

"Perhaps someone entered at that time."

"We saw no one enter,"

"Someone using an invisibility cloak, like the ones used in the terrorist raids."

Glenn mouth opened wide. "OK, but why use a knife, why not use  _Avada Kedavra_  or some other fatal spell."

"Maybe the murderer was a Muggle. One of the terrorists perhaps," said Hermione

Hoffleshead snorted. "A Muggle take down a full grown wizard?"

"Prick us, do we not bleed?" said Hermione.

They both looked at Hermione with a blank expression.

"If the wizard was taken by surprise, maybe by someone they knew, a wizard could certainly be killed by a knife," continued Hermione. "Then the killer could have escaped through the open window."

"It's possible, I suppose," said Glenn.

By now they were standing over the body of Billy the Fence.

"Well, we don't need to speculate," said Hoffleshead. "I want a full workup on the body from St Mungo's and I want the Aurors to do a full scan of the area for any magical traces. Organise it, will you, Glenn."

"Sure thing, Boss."

"And Glenn, clean that blood of your trousers. You look a disgrace."

Glenn gave a sheepish grin and then walked away, using his wand to clean the blood on his trousers.

Hermione walked over to Harry who was already running some scans over the room.

"Hi Harry, are you allowed to talk to me now."

"Allowed to, Hermione, but, Ah, should I? Didn't I hear you denounce me to the Wizengamot today as an accessory to murder?"

Hermione felt a lump rise in her throat and tears welling. "Oh Harry, I am so sorry, I didn't mean_"

"And didn't you add insult to injury by implying you knew better men than me?"

"Harry!"

Harry burst out laughing. "Don't worry Hermione, all the Aurors though the Sirius Black thing was a hoot, including the boss. None of them has any respect for Fudge and the idea of two thirteen year olds using a Hippogriff to snatch a convicted criminal out from under the noses of Fudge and the Dementors, well let's just say, it's the height of cool. It's added to our legend."

"I'm still sorry. It wasn't just my reputation I was risking this morning."

Harry took Hermione by the shoulders. "If you had had the chance to ask me about it before hand, I would have said 'go for it.' What would really upset me was if you didn't know that."

"Yes, of course I know it, but_"

"No buts, Hermione. You, me, Ron, we are a team, forever. We trust each other to do the right thing without asking…even I you think that prat of a boyfriend of yours is a better man than me."

Hermione tried to smile though she could feel the tears rolling down her cheeks. Harry took her into his arms and gave her a big hug.

"Now," said Harry a little later, "Our adoptive family is under attack. What are we going to do about it."

Hermione brought Harry up-to-date on the investigation from her perspective. Harry filled her in on what the Aurors were doing. Harry was now free to use his team in the investigation as he saw fit.

"There's something I want to follow up. I can't demonstrate that it I related to the investigation so I need to run it as separate line of inquiry. Can you help with that? Something tells me it could be very important.

Hermione explained to Harry exactly what she needed.

"That's fine Hermione. I'll let you know when it's set up. Now go home, you look very tired."

"Yes, Dad"

oOo

It was 10:00 am and Harry, Ron and Hermione were waiting in the bright lounge room of No 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry had moved in about six months earlier, after extensive renovations that left the old Black family residence virtually unrecognisable. Only Sirius's room bore any resemblance to the original. Harry had demolished an entire wall so as to finally rid the house of old Mrs Black's noxious and belligerent portrait.

Harry had tried to get as far away as he could from two distinct styles: the original Dark Gothic style of Grimmauld Place and what he called Dursley Suburban Bland. The result was kind of Art Deco with a touch of Burrow Shabby courtesy of Ginny who felt uncomfortable in anything too ordered.

Ginny was still officially living at the Burrow, but she spent far more nights at Grimmauld place when she wasn't away touring with the Holyhead Harpies. She was training with them this morning.

"This is giving me Déjà vu," said Ron.

"How so," asked Harry.

"We three waiting at Grimmauld Place for Kreacher to return with Mundungus so we could question him about a theft," replied Hermione.

"I guess," said Harry, "But to me, this isn't that Grimmauld Place and this isn't then."

"No, I guess not. We were so alone back then, people were trying to kill us, we had a mountain to climb and we had no idea how to go about it. I was so scared, Harry. I never said that, but it was true All we had was each other," said Ron.

"It was enough, it was more than enough," said Harry.

The other two just nodded. The three friends waited in silence.

There was a pop, and both Kreacher and Mundungus appeared in the lounge room. This time Mundungus had come 'voluntarily' but he was none too pleased about it.

"Mr Potter, always good to see you," said Mundungus, "but if you be pardoning me I really do need to be about me business. Your bleedin 'ouse elf, though, 'e wouldn't take no for an answer, would 'e."

"The thief Mundungus didn't want to come with Kreacher, Master, but Kreacher reminded him that Master was now an Auror and that the filthy thief was still just a thief and that it would go better if the thief came along."

"You have done well, Kreacher," said Harry.

"Kreacher will fetch a heavy pan, Master, just in case the thief Mundungus doesn't cooperate."

"That won't be necessary, Kreacher, yet," said Hermione.

Mundungus's restless eyes spun around and fixed on Hermione who was side on to him. Small dabs of sweat appeared under his scruffy collar.

"Do I have to stand 'ere and be insulted, by your bleedin 'elf," said Mundungus, turning back to Harry. "I'm a respectable business man these days, ar'n'i?"

"You are a thief Mundungus," said Ron, "And you're lucky we decided to have this discussion here. We could have held this interview at the Auror Office, or Hermione could have had you pulled into the MLE office again, but then certain things you say would have to go on the official record and you might not find that to your advantage."

Ron, Harry and Hermione had arranged themselves in a semi-circle around Mundungus so he had the uncomfortable feeling of being surrounded and had to swivel his head around to look at whoever was talking. It was a standard Auror technique.

"What are you on about?" asked Mundungus cautiously.

"First things first," said Harry. "What do you know about the Billy the Fence."

"Why, what's 'e done?"

"You know what he's done. MLE interviewed you about it. He's been selling dangerous magical goods to Muggles," said Harry.

"Well I don't know anything about that, do I? Stupid business, I warned…" Mundungus clammed up.

"Warned who? Warned Bill?" asked Harry.

"Look, I might have run into him, but he denied anything to do with this Muggle caper. Bad for all of us, that's what it is."

"We know that Billy the Fence was in your lock up, just this week. The Muggles caught you and Billy on their surveillance cameras driving away with a truckload of stuff. What was in that truck, Mundungus?" asked Ron.

"It was nothing, just some old junk Billy helped me get rid of."

"That's kind of hard to believe," said Harry, leaning forward.

"I don't know anything about this Muggle stuff, that's the honest truth, Mr Potter,"

"Shall Kreacher hit him now, Master?" Kreacher was standing behind Mundungus, a heavy iron pot raised above his head.

"Not yet, Kreacher," said Harry

"The MLE raided your lockup and seized numerous items," said Hermione.

"Bleedin theft, that's what it was, taking an honest man's property like that."

"Among the items taken was a silver ring in the form of a coiled snake," continued Hermione, ignoring Mundungus's protest. "it was found on the floor, behind an old cupboard. Would you like to tell me where you got it?"

"'ow would I know. It's just some trinket I picked up somewhere."

"Well you could be in luck, Mundungus," Said Ron. "You see Hermione recognised it as belonging to Lucius Malfoy. It was a part of a large haul of stuff stolen from Malfoy Manor when they were all being entertained at Azkaban. I'm sure Lucius would be happy to pay a large reward for its return. We'll be sure to tell him who found it."

"You can't do that. He'd 'ave me killed, wouldn 'e"

"I'm not sure we can avoid it. It's proper procedure. I don't want to get charged with tampering with evidence again, do I," said Hermione. "Of course if I had something to show for it, I might be able to swing something. We're off the record now. That's why we are having this conversation here"

"What do you want to know," said Mundungus, letting out a sigh.

"Where is the rest of the stuff stolen from the Malfoy's?" asked Ron.

Mundungus brushed his hand across his scalp. "I had to destroy it all, di'n'i. After the Malfoys were released it was too hot to sell. After this Muggle caper, I knew the heat would be on. I didn't want to get caught with it. I had to get rid of it. That's what was in the truck. It's all at the bottom of the ocean now."

"All of it?" cried out Hermione, feeling a sudden heaviness.

"Were there any wands?" asked Ron, "Did you find any wands."

Mundungus was sweating profusely. "Yes, God help the souls of those who owned them, I fear the came to a nasty end."

"You destroyed them all?" asked Hermione, her voice small, pained.

Mundungus turned to Hermione. His eyes were frightened but there was calculation and compassion their too.

"All but one wand, Miss Hermione, your wand. You used it to disarm me in this very 'ouse. Well I recognised it, di'n'I, and I thought one day I might find a way to return it to you without getting meself in trouble."

Hermione rushed at Mundungus and hugged him. When she pulled back she could see the shock on Mundungus's face and the amused smiles on Harry and Ron. She was going to be teased about this, but she didn't mind.

"So where is it? Where have you got it?"

"I sent it to me cousin for safekeeping. She's a Muggle, doesn't know anything about the magical world. I put a charm on the box so she won't open it, just put it somewhere safe."

"Can you get it," asked Hermione.

"Thing is, I told Susan, that's me cousin, that I was out of the country, traveling. Don't want her to think me a liar, now, do I? Here, I think I still 'ave her address." He rummaged around the voluminous pockets of his heavy coat, finally withdrawing a crumpled, stained yellow sheet.

Hermione took it from him gingerly. "Thank, you."

"Think nothing of it, Miss Hermione, always a pleasure. Now I might take my leave." He began to turn into apparition but Ron put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Not so fast, Mung."

"Are you sure there's nothing more you can tell us about these sales to Muggles, Mundungus?" asked Harry.

"I'll tell you one thing, Mr Potter, whoever is behind this is not a professional. It's not worth the risk, this kind of caper, not good for business and if they could convince Billy the Fence to get involved they must be bleedin scary."

oOo

Although it was very close to the Burrow, neither Ron or Hermione had ever visited Exeter where Mundungus's Muggle cousin Susan was studying Language and Literature at the University. They had decided to make a full day of it, staying overnight in the heart of the old city. Hermione had made a list of all the sights she wanted to see, including the Cathedral, the old tunnels. The Quay, the Castle and several museums and marked them all down on a map along with the position of Susan's apartment.

Ever since the interview with Mundungus two days earlier, Hermione had been beside herself with excitement, but she couldn't get away; the investigation came first. She felt guilty about taking the Saturday but Hoffleshead, who was still convinced that Mundungus was involved in some way had encouraged her to follow up any lead related to him.

Hermione couldn't wait to be reunited with her old wand, lost on that horrible day when she had been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange at Malfoy Manor. She had been using a wand that once belonged to one of Molly's great Aunt's and while she secretly cherished the sense of belonging that came with having her own Weasley hand-me-down and while the wand was friendly and compliant to her wishes, she would sometimes complain to Ron or Harry "It just lacks the hard edge, the bite and the intuitiveness of my own wand."

Hermione knew that Harry got it; he felt the same about his own wand of Holly so much so that he chose it over the legendary and powerful Elder Wand. There was something special about a wand that chose you as its first master, while you too were just beginning on your magical journey. You grew and learnt together forming an intimate partnership. Ron, who had started out with a hand-me-down wand, didn't quite understand.

It was early morning when Ron and Hermione apparated into a hidden room, invisible to Muggles, in the 13th century Exeter Guildhall.

"First stop, Susan's apartment," announced Hermione.

Ron smiled. "It not yet nine. Don't you think it's a little early to be banging on a stranger's door?"

"I'm sure she'll be awake," said Hermione, heading off, not waiting for Ron who had to scurry after her.

Susan's apartment was about ten minutes' walk from Guildhall, in an area popular with students. It was quite at this time of the morning. Hermione knocked on the bland white door of the apartment. When, after a minute there was no answer and no sound from within, she knocked again, louder this time.

The door behind them opened a young woman with long wavy black hair and heavy, bloodshot eyes emerged and looked Ron and Hermione up and down.

"If you're after Susan, she's not here. I haven't seen here for a few days, she's been skipping class and she bailed out on a party we were supposed to go to together last night."

"Hi, I'm Hermione. I'm Susan's cousin from London, and this is Ron. She was supposed to meet us this morning, do you have any idea where she is."

"None whatsoever, I thought she must have popped back to London to see her parents; Susan said they were going to be back in England for a short stay."

Ron, who had been doing some surreptitious wand-work behind his back, produced a key. "Susan said to let ourselves in if she wasn't here. Thanks for your help." He inserted the key into the apartment door and entered. Hermione nodded to the dark haired girl and then followed Ron into the tiny apartment.

The dark haired girl tried to follow but Hermione turned around and blocked her. "I'm sorry, but I really don't think we have the right to let someone we don't know into Susan's apartment."

"How do I know Susan would let you in?"

"We have the key, don't we," said Hermione and firmly closed the door on the still pouting girl.

When Hermione turned to examine the room she immediately felt a sinking in her stomach. Something was wrong. A quick survey of the bedroom and bathroom confirmed that the flat was empty.

Ron picked up the wine glass that was on the kitchen table and sniffed it. "There are little floating around in this wine and mould is forming on this half eaten sandwich. She must have left in an awful hurry three, four days ago."

There was also an open box, just the right size for a wand, on the table. A yellow scroll was on the floor. Hermione picked it up and read it to Ron.

Ron laughed. "Well, neither Mundungus's honeyed words or his Muggle repelling charms seem to have worked. She clearly opened it as soon as she got it. But where is she and where is the wand?"

Hermione tried an  _Accio_  spell to quickly find her old wand but neither that or a thorough old fashioned search revealed anything. Hermione ran her wand over the apartment. "Magic has been performed here recently," she said.

"Your  _Accio_?"

"No apart from that," she replied.

"How could that be, even with your wand a Muggle couldn't do any magic."

"Maybe some wizard traced the wand here and took both the wand and Susan," said Hermione, biting her lower lip.

"That's ridiculous Hermione, who would want to do that?" Ron cleared the kitchen table and placed his wand in the middle. Lightly touching the centre of the wand he closed his eyes tight, muttering a near silent incantation. The wand began to spin and then finally came to rest pointing north. "Learnt that with the Aurors last month. A portkey has operated from this spot within the last week transporting someone north. That explains the magical trace you found."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "The wand must have been a portkey. Merlin, poor Susan, she must have got the fright of her life. She might be injured or in real danger. No telling where she ended up."

"North."

"Just about everywhere in England is north of here."

"Why would Mundungus embed a portkey in your wand, or, if he didn't know about it, why didn't it activate when he touched it?" asked Ron.

Hermione was thrown for a heartbeat, then a second later she replied, "Maybe it's a selective portkey,"

"A what?"

"It's only triggered when selected people touch it, you know like only witches, not wizards. It's really hard magic," said Hermione.

"Susan isn't a witch, so maybe it selected females, or maybe Muggle…"

"Muggle-born, people whose parents are Muggles." Hermione felt the blood drain from her face

"Bleeding hell," said Ron, "It was a trap, set for you, but by whom?"

"Bellatrix, who else," replied Hermione, spitting out the name like a vile poison. "That evil creature certainly had the skill and would have been furious when we escaped Malfoy Manor. She cursed the wand so that if I ever got it back, she'd have her revenge."

"That can't be good for Susan. Wherever the portkey took her, it won't be a fun place."

"We have to find her quickly."

"Yeah, but how?"

Hermione paced back and forth for a few moments, and then grabbed Ron. "We have to get back to London immediately." She apparated on the spot dragging Ron along with her, both of them emerging in the Ministry of Magic moments later.

"Ron, go to the Land Registry. We need a list of all properties owned by the Lestranges. Pay particular attention to any estates in remote areas. That's my best bet to where Bellatrix would send an enemy. Somewhere where she could practice her evil away from prying eyes."

"Hermione, it's Saturday, there isn't going to be any staff in the Registry," protested Ron.

"Are you a member of the Wizengamot or not?" asked Hermione.

Ron looked at her blankly.

"You have the authority to summon staff if you have an urgent enquiry."

"Oh."

"I'm going to check up on the  _War Investigations Commission_  records. I'll meet up with you in an hour. Hermione rushed off to the lifts leaving Ron trying to remember just where the Land Registry was located.

_To be continued…_

* * *

Please review. All reviews welcome: critical, complimentary, comical and commentary. Thanks for reading.


	6. The Sum of All Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new threat emerges.

 

Ron was examining an ancient and oversized leather bound volume when Hermione arrived in the Ministry Land Office. As she watched, an old clerk, dressed like a character in a Dickens' novel, with a long frock coat, a stiff white collar, an oversized checked cravat and a pinched face, dropped a mouldy document in front of Ron and hurried away.

"He's none too impressed," said Ron to Hermione, "I think he believes I'm pulling together some sort of shady real estate deal and resents being dragged in on the weekend."

"What have you got?" asked Hermione.

"Not a lot," replied Ron. "Those Lestrange bastards owned properties all over Britain before it was all confiscated after the war. Trouble is, no one has gone to the trouble of cataloguing it all. Won't be easy to find it all either, some of the property is held in secret trusts or recorded on ancient scrolls hidden down in the depths of the ministry where the trolls live."

Hermione was feeling increasingly frustrated as Ron spoke. "Have you found anything?"

"Most of what I have found so far is in South East England, east of Exeter, but there are three properties that are to the North." Ron shoved the list to Hermione. "What did you find?"

Hermione examined the list before replying. "The  _War Investigations Commission_  examined the wand Bellatrix used at the Battle of Hogwarts using  _Prior Incantato_. She definitely used it to create a portkey specifically aimed at females with Muggle parents. I think we can safely assume it was my wand she turned into a portkey, a trap for me. The spell was quite complicated. My wand should have stayed behind, I'm sure Bellatrix wanted me wandless wherever I was to be transported. That part of the spell must have died when Bellatrix died, so Susan probably has my wand, not that it will be of any use to her."

Ron had closed his eyes as Hermione spoke. Hermione knew he was getting angry.

"Even from the grave that bitch is still hurting people. Where going to need more people if we are going to find her quickly, we should talk to Dad."

Hermione nodded.

Just then a Patronus began to form in front of Hermione and quickly set into familiar form of Arthur's weasel.

"Spooky," said Ron.

"Sorry to spoil your day in Exeter, Hermione,. and I hope you found your wand, but it is absolutely imperative that you come into the ministry immediately. Will explain when you arrive. Over." Arthur's patronus disappeared before Hermione or Ron could reply.

"Well that's going to be a short journey," said Ron.

They headed straight away for the great Atrium which had been all but deserted an hour earlier. Now it was a scene of mayhem as worried looking witches and wizards poured in, some striding purposefully to their destination, others adding to the milling crowd looking for answers they were clearly not getting.

"There's Dad," said Ron, dragging Hermione with him as he dashed after his father.

"Come with me," said Arthur turning to Hermione as he walked quickly to the lifts. Ron looked unsure whether he was included or not but followed along anyway. They took the lift to the first floor which housed the offices of the Minister of Magic.

Hermione had been on this floor many time, but not into the large octagonal room they now entered. She knew what it was, though. The mahogany clad walls were inlaid with panels of red granite. Columns of the same stone were embedded in each corner, topped with ornate gold capitals. An ancient round walnut table, redolent of history and momentous decisions, occupied the centre of the room, taking up most of the space. A fresco of Merlin addressing a gathering of wizards and witches seated around this very table adorned the ceiling. This was the Table Chamber of the Mage, or what Muggles would call the Cabinet Room.

Hermione's mouth was open and her breathing became rapid. She was awe struck to be in this place: it was like when she first entered the Wizengamot Chamber. She could see, touch and feel the great events that had taken place here and now she was in her own small way to be part of it.

Arthur indicated to Hermione to take a seat along the wall behind him as he took his place at the round table. He seemed to notice for the first time that Ron was still with them. He hesitated, then told his son to sit down with Hermione and say nothing.

When all had settled, there were fifteen people seated at the round table: The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, the heads of the nine most important departments and the five most senior members of the Wizengamot. Arrayed in a ring behind them were other senior officials and assistants. Marvin Hoffleshead sat behind the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Everyone in the room wore looks either of deep concern or of confusion.

Kingsley shuffled some papers and cleared his throat, bringing instant silence to the room.

"Two hours ago, a terrorist force of unknown size, invisible and apparently impervious to bullets, infiltrated the Royal Air Force base at Lakenheath where the United States maintains a stockpile of nuclear weapons. The terrorists overwhelmed the troops guarding the vaults that store the weapons and, minutes later, ambushed and annihilated a 200 man column that rushed to their relief. They escaped with four tactical nuclear warheads. The four apache helicopters that gave chase were shot down by handheld missiles."

Absolute silence followed this bald announcement. Even wizards understood the awesome, deadly power of Muggle nuclear weapons. Even the least imaginative could understand the utter turmoil, the fear and the anger that would be seizing the Muggle government.

"How powerful are these bombs?" asked Newton Frutt, breaking the silence. He was head of the Department of Mysteries.

"These are tactical weapons, I am told, so not massive city killers. All the same, let off in the heart of London one of these weapons could kill up to a million people. Be under no illusion that we would be safe. Diagon alley and all the magical folk living in the area would be gone. No shield we could conjure would be of the slightest use."

Hermione felt her chest tightening. Her breath became ragged. Her mind raced, jumping from thoughts of her parents, now settled back in London, to all the other people she knew who lived or worked here. Once again, people she cared about, Muggle and magical, were in danger. Once again, the magical world was at least partly to blame.

"What does the Muggle Prime Minister want us to do?" asked Arthur.

"He hasn't said yet. He wants to see me in half an hour. I want to take to him a program of action. I need the input from everyone around this table and a commitment to deliver what we promise," replied Kingsley.

Kingsley turned towards Adam Gristlewaite, the chief Auror, who was perhaps the oldest person around the table. Brought out of retirement to rebuild the shattered Auror Office after the war, he was sharp, experienced and wily. "Adam, what can you offer me."

"The Muggles will certainly be setting up roadblocks to try and contain these weapons within a small area. They will also close all but a handful of their ports. We need to supply people to all these checkpoints to detect any magical concealment. Unfortunately, the Auror Office doesn't have the staff for that, nor does Magical Law Enforcement.

"We can help there," said Arthur. "we can recruit ministry staff who can pass as muggles and roster them to ports and checkpoints as needed. Your Aurors may need to help train them in the correct detection spells."

"Not a problem," replied Gristlewaite.

"Mr Hoffleshead, could you please provide us with an update on your investigation," asked Kingsley. "Are you any closer to finding out how these magical cloaks got into the hands of muggle criminals and terrorists?"

Hoffleshead rubbed his chin before raising his head and looking Kingsley in the eye. "I don't have much to add to my last report. We have hit a brick wall with the killing of Billy the Fence. Also, we are not getting the cooperation we need from the Muggle authorities, they don't seem to understand where we fit in and are reluctant to share with us. I suspect that will change after this morning."

Hermione got up from her position and whispered into Arthur's ear.

"How is the financial investigation going?" asked Arthur. "Have we learnt anything about payments from wizarding banks to outlaw Muggle groups?"

Hoffleshead face took on a faint red hue. "We have been concentrating our efforts in that area on your son's business, Mr Weasley, and on this mysterious Chinese company he was supposedly dealing with. We have managed to clear your son of any wrongdoing."

"You've been wasting time," said Arthur. He turned to Kingsley. "Minister, I would like my eldest son, Bill, appointed to a joint Wizard/Muggle financial investigation team. He will energise it and keep it focused on relevant areas. You know his worth."

Hoffleshead looked as if he was about to object but Kingsley cut across him, "Consider it done. OK, I am off to see the PM. You all have a lot of work to do. Remember, our first and only priority must be finding these nuclear weapons." With that, he left.

The meeting broke up into small knots of discussion. No one rushed to leave, it was as if they all needed reassurance from one another.

Hermione told Arthur about her wand and what had happened to Susan.

"We need to get an investigation and a search going quickly. She is in deadly danger."

Arthur shook his head. "I'm sorry, Hermione, and I'm sorry for this Susan, but you heard Kingsley. our first and only priority must be finding the bombs. You are already flat out as my liaison with the investigation and I need you to organise these roadblock rosters. We haven't got the time or the resources to devote to looking for just one girl when tens of thousands are at risk.

Hermione shook her head and grimaced as Arthur spoke. She was about to speak when Hoffleshead, who had been listening to the conversation, jumped in. He was looking a little pale.

"Actually, Mr Weasley, I believe this matter is relevant to the main investigation. My instincts tell me Mundungus Fletcher is involved in this up to his neck, though I can't prove it. He was certainly heavily involved with Billy the Fence. I am happy to allocate a couple of my investigators to this task."

Hermione quickly closed her gaping mouth. Arthur regarded Hoffleshead with wide eyes. "Frankly, Marvin, I can't see it. However they are your staff to allocate as you see fit. My priorities will be elsewhere."

"Perhaps we could use the DA to look for Susan, those members not in the Aurors or working for the ministry," said Ron.

"Brilliant, you could organise that," said Hermione.

"No," replied Ron, "It's time I finally joined the Aurors full time. Right now they will need everyone they can get."

Arthur nodded. "That is very commendable, Son. Hermione, you can coordinate this search for Susan, but I don't want you spending much time on it and I don't want any ministry resources used in it. Use the DA. Understood?"

Hermione nodded.

"And Mr Hoffleshead, I expect that you will coordinate your efforts in this area with Hermione. OK?"

"Oh yes, you can be certain of it."

oOo

Dr Rami Basaran looked very much in place in the elegantly furnished lounge room of his home in London's Holland Park. His hair was short and neatly combed, his suit perfectly cut to fit his trim figure, his polished black shoes were without blemish. His posture was upright, though relaxed.

"Tea?" he asked his nervous guest.

"No thank you."

Dr Basaran was a skilled and respected surgeon and a dazzling participant in London society. Born in Jordan, he was educated in England gaining his medical degree from Cambridge. What neither his patients nor his friends knew was that was also the head of Sane'e al Salam, a secret faction within the PPLO (Parthanian* Peoples' Liberation Organisation), which he had created himself with all the caution, painstaking attention to detail and skill he brought to his surgery.

When his current guest had come to him nearly a year ago with tales of people with special gifts living amongst normal humans and offers of artefacts with 'magical' powers he had almost lashed out in anger at such foolishness. Only the control he had cultivated over decades and the fact that his guest had managed to track him down, something that he believed western intelligence agencies had been unable to do, stayed his hand. His guest's mother came from a highly respected Parthanian family and this too helped. So too did a short demonstration of his abilities.

"Perhaps you would like a glass of wine?"

"No, perhaps later," replied his guest who called himself a wizard.

"You appear, on edge, my friend."

The wizard laughed nervously. "And you my friend, seem unnaturally calm. I cannot keep the investigation from your door for much longer."

"A week is all we need. Then the weapons will have left these shores. Soon a just peace will come to our homeland. What does it matter what happens to us after that? We are not important."

"I believe I can give you that week, but no more. There are now too many balls in the air and they are getting away from me."

"You have already done wonders, my friend. Do you not have the head of the police investigation under your control? Surely he can keep the investigation away from Blackbrae."

"He only controls one of the many groups now committed to finding what we have stolen: MI5, MI6, the military and of course the Americans who are swarming into the country and who never listen to what the Brits tell them. And then, there are my people."

"Why have you risked coming here tonight?" asked Dr Basaran, "you tell me nothing I did not know, nothing we have not already discussed."

"I bought Blackbrae from one of my kind, a wizard, but one who had gone very bad. He was killed in the recent troubles and I was able to get hold of Blackbrae very cheaply. I am not a man of great means and the estate was ideal for the plan I was forming."

"Again, you have told me this before."

"There is a another investigation underway, looking for a missing person. It is totally unrelated to the search for the nuclear weapons. Unfortunately, Blackbrae meets the criteria for the properties they are searching. I am trying to steer them away from Blackbrae, but I cannot guarantee they will not come."

"We will be ready for them."

The wizard paled and spoke almost inaudibly. "I do not wish to see them harmed."

"That, then, is why you have come tonight, to plead for these people?"

The wizard nodded. "These are good people and very young, almost children. Take away their wands, they are harmless."

"And with their wands?"

"More dangerous than you can imagine. But they will not be expecting trouble. Take them by surprise, disarm them, keep them prisoners till it is all over. It's all I ask."

"You ask a great deal; there is far too much at stake, perhaps the very freedom of the Parthanian people. We cannot take unnecessary risks."

"I am pleading. If it can be done without risk, do not harm them."

"I will consider it. That is all I can promise."

oOo

"Ginny Dear, could you help with the vegetables, please?" asked Molly.

Ginny, whose head was resting on Harry's shoulder, groaned.

"I think the future Lady Potter is too important now for mere kitchen duties," said George.

Ginny poked her tongue out at George then jumped up and went to help her mother. Hermione smiled. George and Fleur had been teasing Ginny with the title 'Lady Potter" since she and Fleur had investigated a large estate that had belonged to the Black family and was now likely to come to Harry. According to Fleur, Ginny had paced out the area for a Quidditch pitch and selected a spot on a bluff with spectacular views out to the Irish sea as the ideal spot for a house.

What they didn't find on the estate was any sign of Susan. For the last few days members of the DA had been investigating properties that had any association with either the Black or Lestrange families or, acting a little more discreetly, the Malfoys. Luna was heading up the research, generating lists of properties to search. At Hoffleshead's insistence, his team was investigating properties associated with other known Death Eaters. Hermione was coordinating it all.

"Can I help, Molly" called out Hermione.

"You and Ron could set the table."

Ron whipped out his wand and, almost immediately, the report that Harry was reading, along with every other object resting on the dining room table, lifted into the air and deposited itself in the lounge room. Another flourish of Ron's wand and a torrent of knives, forks and plates flew from the kitchen, each item finally tumbling into its proper place on the table.

"Hey, watch it!" exclaimed Ginny ducking to avoid being clobbered by a bread board. A carving knife just missed stabbing George.

Hermione frowned and then crossed her arms. "Where did you get that spell from?"

"I adapted it from a spell we use in the Aurors"

"What's it used for, decapitating ogres?"

"Dinner's served," called out Molly several minutes later. It was full house at the Burrow. Everyone in the family was there, together with their partners. Only Bill, who was running late, and Charlie were missing. Since the day George had been arrested, the family had been holding an evening briefing session, exchanging information and coordinating action outside the formal and creaky structures of the ministry and the official investigation. Both magical and Muggle Britain was in danger and someone had tried to give the Weasleys the blame for it, or at least use them as a diversion. They weren't going to have that.

First though, was the serious business of eating and the Weasley men dug in with gusto.

Not everyone was hungry. Hermione ate only a few bites then put down her knife and fork, staring into space.

"We're running out of time," she said at last.

"It's early days yet, Hermione" said Arthur, "You have to let the investigation run its course."

"No one has made any progress, the ever expanding Muggle roadblocks have caught nothing, same at the ports. There have been no new leads whatsoever. And I think for Susan, we are too late."

"I'm sure we'll find her, Hermione," said Ron, "I'm sure she'll be OK."

There was a pop outside and then the sound of the back door opening as Bill arrived. The conversation halted for a moment then Hermione continued. "If Susan was OK, she would have found her way back to Exeter by now, or her parents in London. She hasn't. She's dead because of my wand."

"I don't believe that," said Ron.

"I can't give you any good news about Susan, Hermione," said Bill as he sat down and started ladling some beef stew onto his plate, "but we've had a breakthrough in the financial investigation. We've identified a credit card used three months ago by Billy the Fence to buy building materials in two towns: Carlisle a few miles south of the Scottish border and Hamilton eighty miles further north, close to Glasgow. It's the type of material you would need if you wanted to build a bunker to hide nuclear weapons and erect a fence to keep people out. The muggle police are now swarming into the area, making inquiries."

"Hoffleshead hasn't said anything to us," said Hermione.

"He has only just found out himself. I am sure he'll tell you all about it at tomorrow morning's briefing. My guess is that by tomorrow afternoon the whole focus of the investigation will swing onto southern Scotland."

"We have already searched a number of estates in that area looking for Susan. They'd be ideal for hiding something," said Ginny.

"Who was paying the credit card account?" asked Harry.

"Good question, Harry. It was being paid from an account held in a wizarding bank in Ireland. We are unlikely to find out who owned the account, but we are going to ask anyway. The mere fact it was an Irish bank had the muggles on our team in a panic about a possible IRA nuclear attack. Personally, I suspect it's just another clever piece of misdirection, like the  _Flower Petal Trading Company."_

"Well I'll be glad if we get assigned to some new investigation," said Ron. "If I have to wave my wand over one more truck full of pumpkins because some idiot witch on secondment from the  _Magical Bonbons Regulations Office_  thinks she detected a magical signature, I'll explode myself."

oOo

Susan was talking out loud. "I should be trying harder to get out of here, is that what you said, Blondie? Well you couldn't have tried too hard. You're still here."

"You didn't have a wand, you say? I might have a wand but no one has shown me how to use it. Mr Needles here won't tell me a thing." Susan had initially dubbed the skeleton of the alien  _Needleface_ , but then decided she should be more polite to her cellmate.

Of course Susan knew that neither Blondie or Mr Needles could respond, but talking to them seemed less insane than talking to herself, which she had begun to do after a week alone in this dreadful dungeon.

"Yes, I know my breath smells of dead fish. So would yours if you had nothing to eat but tinned sardines. But don't worry, I'm out of them. In time, my breath will be as fresh as yours, Blondie. Then you won't have anything to complain about."

That she was going to die here, was something Susan was beginning to accept, though she frequently became angry and lashed out at whatever she could find. Her big toe was still sore from a kicking she gave to one of the large rocks blocking the corridor.

She had spent many, many hours trying to find new ways to use the wand. She remembered when she was at school, the boys had gone through a craze that had something to do with a video game. They would ambush each other, jumping from behind a column and, pointing, yell "Thundunga."

She had pointed the wand at the wall and yelled "Thundunga", but nothing happened. She did the same at the rocks in the corridor, with the same result. She cleared her mind and then concentrated on just one rock and imagined it disintegrating. Then, willing it to shatter with all the force she could muster, she pointed the wand and yelled "Thundunga." Cracks appeared on the surface of the rock.

She was elated, but then after hours of effort she had achieved nothing more than crazing the rocks and her vision of blasting her way to freedom fell to dust.

She was despairing again now and her conversation with Blondie wasn't helping.

"You have a wand. It got you in here. Use it to get you out," said Blondie.

"I've tried that," said Susan. And she had. She had spent hours concentrating hard on her apartment in Exeter, clutching the wand and willing herself to be back there. But nothing had happened except she became nauseous.

"Small steps take, you should, then let go, you must," said Mr Needles. Great, Mr Needles was morphing into Yoda. Soon he'd be telling her to "trust in the force."

But perhaps he was right. Perhaps she had been too ambitious trying to get all the way home, and, yes, she had always held back, unable to overcome the fear that she might materialise deep in the earth or a thousand feet in the air.

Susan jumped up and fetched the wand. She removed the cardboard star she had placed on the tip of the wand when she had played at being a fairy godmother and tried to change her filthy clothes into something fresher.

She squatted on the floor, holding the wand firmly in both hands. She concentrated on a spot on the floor, three feet in front her. Slowing her breathing, relaxing her muscles, letting all fear drain from her, she filled herself with a desire to be on the new spot and then willed herself to be there. She felt herself squeezed on all sides and then, pop, she was on the new spot. "Yes", she yelled thrusting her fist in the air, but then she was bent over, bringing up the last tin of sardines.

* * *

 

 * Parthania is, of course, a made up country. It is not my desire to paint any people or movement as wanting to acquire nuclear weapons, whether in a just cause or no. It may be useful to remember also, this story is set in 2000, before 9/11.


	7. All Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation accelerates.

The room was already bright with broad smiles and easy banter when Harry and Hermione arrived for the morning briefing. Harry joined the other Auror team leaders while Hermione took a seat near the front.

At precisely 8:00am Hoffleshead strode into the room accompanied by Adam Gristlewaite, the chief Auror. Unlike the last few days, Hoffleshead was grinning and looked relaxed.

"It's clear you've all heard the good news. The banking team have been able to link Billy the Fence to several purchases of building materials in two towns just south of Glasgow along the M74." He flourished his wand and a large map appeared on the front wall. The towns of Carlisle and Hamilton began to flash. "The muggle experts say that although the stuff Billy bought is not uncommon, they are just what you would need if you wanted to build a cellar to hide nuclear warheads and shield them from some of the very sensitive detection equipment the Muggles have been using. The theory is the weapons have been stashed somewhere in this area, either to be used later, or to be shipped to another country when the heat dies down."

"So are we all going to charge into these towns, wands ablaze?" asked one of the MLE investigator, causing some smiles.

"We might leave the more flashy stuff to the Aurors, but yes some of you will be going into these towns, doing follow ups on the muggle investigation. I'll be handing out your individual assignments later," said Hoffleshead.

Hermione thrust her hand into the air.

"Yes, Miss Granger," said Hoffleshead. Hermione noticed he was trying to hide a smirk.

"How can we be sure these purchases at these locations are not a diversion. These people have left a false trail before."

"We can't, of course. But we have had confirmation. That's the good news none of you will have heard yet. I received word earlier this morning from the chief Muggle investigator. Three months ago, around the same period when he was making purchases in Hamilton and Carlisle, Billy the Fence was caught on a surveillance camera outside a bank in Selkirk, about 40 miles south of Edinburgh and 80 miles east of the other two towns." Hoffleshead began handing out photos of a nonchalant looking Billy leaning against a sky blue panel van. "Apologies for the static picture. The Muggles, for all their marvellous technology still can't manage a simple moving photo."

"This new information helps us narrow down the search area even further," Hoffleshead tapped the map with his wand and the eastern portion of the Scottish border area lit up. "We will be concentrating our efforts in this area." He flourished his wand once more and envelopes flew off the floor, forming into a small whirlwind and then sped to individual investigators. "These are your assignments. Good hunting."

oOo

"I expect the girl scouts will be in here next asking about this Billy fellow," said the elderly lady as she fastidiously tidied the fabrics on display in her drapery store.

"But have you seen him? It's very important," said Ron.

"No doubt it is, young man, and Selkirk certainly hasn't seen this much excitement since the Queen drove through here 17 years ago, but as I told the others, I haven't seen this man."

It was the same answer Harry and Ron had been getting for the last two days. The excitement that everyone had felt at the briefing two days earlier was now fading into disappointment.

Harry gave Ron the signal that he had finished his surreptitious scans. Ron thanked the shopkeeper for her time and then he and Harry left the store.

"Anything?" asked Ron.

"Not a thing, as usual," replied Harry. "No one here remembers seeing him."

"The guy in the farm supplies store does."

"Yeah, but all he remembers is selling him fencing material. It's odd really. He remembers the date, what Billy looked like, the sky blue van but nothing else whatsoever. You'd think if he remembered the colour of the van that he'd have noticed Billy's East London accent. It would have stood out a mile up this way."

"Maybe all he saw was the photo," joked Ron.

Harry and Ron stared at each other.

"It couldn't be," said Ron.

"Hermione did suggest it could all be a diversion."

"Yeah, but…"

"The photo from the surveillance camera could be fake, even Muggle technology can do that."

"And the guy from the farm supply shop?" asked Ron.

"Bribed?"

"He was questioned under veritaserum, remember."

"Imperiused? You can't detect that," replied Harry.

"Bleeding hell, we could all be looking in the wrong place."

"The information from Carlisle and Hamilton seems more solid. It'd be harder to fake the banking records and lots of people remember seeing Billy."

"Yeah, and they have no idea where he went after he left town," said Ron.

"Probably to the West if they are trying to divert us to the East."

"That's still a large area."

Harry paused. "Let's get the team together, we're pulling out," he said eventually.

"Where we going?" asked Ron.

"Glasgow."

"Glasgow? Not west?"

"If Billy was buying building supplies, he would have needed construction workers. He didn't get them in Carlisle or Hamilton. We would have found them by now. Glasgow is the nearest big city. We're going to check construction sites to see if we can find anyone Billy used."

"Shouldn't you tell Gristlewaite or Hoffleshead?"

"Later, let's see if we can find something useful first," replied Harry.

"You're the Boss."

oOo

"Next time we come to Glasgow we need to bring an interpreter," said Ron. This was the third building site he and Harry had visited that afternoon. The foreign workers were easier to understand than the local Glaswegians.

Harry spotted the foreman returning with a short stocky man with a dark complexion. The foreman wouldn't let them enter the site but had taken the photo and shown it around.

"Cezar hi knae ye men," said the foreman. The short stocky man, evidently called Cezar, nodded his head vigorously.

"You know this man?" said Harry, pointing to the photograph.

"Yes," said Cezar, still nodding. "Three months ago he took three of us down south to large property. We stay four days. Build electric fence around property. He paid us cash and brought us back to Glasgow."

"Can you tell us where the property was," said Harry, getting excited, "Could you show us on a map?"

Cezar shook his head. "it was about two hours' drive away. We went through a town called Dunfy, something like that, then a town more small with old castle in pond."

"Could you take us there?" asked Ron.

"I am certain of it," replied Cesar.

It cost Harry £150 to "make up" for Cezar's "lost wages" and another £100 to square things with the foreman, but Harry, Ron and Cezar were soon in Cezar's battered old Ford escort heading south on the M74.

Harry sent a patronus to Hoffleshead. "Major breakthrough. Have found a worker who did construction work for Billy on an estate near Dumfries. He is taking us there now. Should arrive in under two hours. Will advise exact location when we know more. Please alert all interested parties."

"That should get everyone hopping", said Ron.

oOo

Susan was afraid.

She had been elated when she first succeeded in a 'jump'. She had practiced jumping from one spot in the dungeon to another and had overcome the need to vomit after each leap.

Now was the time to leave this place and she was afraid. She didn't want to jump too far. One of her longest jumps had ended with a sharp pain and profuse bleeding where a small slice of her shoulder had simply disappeared, lost somewhere in the in-between. She could be sliced in two if she tried to return to a place she knew. She simply wanted to be outside her prison.

The trouble was she didn't know where she was in relation to the outside. How large was the building? Was the dungeon underground or high in the air? Was the building on the edge of a cliff or surrounded by water. She didn't know and if she got it wrong she could fall from a great height or be buried forever in cold, hard stone.

When she had been in the cell above the dungeon, there had been light coming from a high window. Here there was no light save what she got from the wand. Her best guess was that she was some ten feet underground and that the wall where Blondie and Mr Needles were resting was the outside wall.

"Am I right, Blondie? Mr Needles?"

But they didn't answer.

She couldn't stay here, she knew that. She had to leave.

Her chest tightened and her heart started racing as she remembered being encased in the cold, wet cement that she believed would be her tomb as she sank through the floor of the cell above to this dungeon.

She had to leave.

She stood. Once more she took deep breaths, slowing her breathing, calming herself. She imagined a spot 100 yards distant, 15 feet above her present position and then, after one last deep breath, willed herself there.

She was falling, then she felt stabs and scratches and then, almost immediately, her feet hit the ground and she tumbled onto the soft ground. She opened her eyes and was almost blinded by the early afternoon light, so bright after the darkness of her prison.

The first thing she saw when her eyes adjusted was the bush that had broken her fall. She was on the side of a gentle hill, near the summit where a low stone tower stood. She must have been far further underground than she thought. Only the slope of the hill had prevented her emerging inside the earth.

There were no other buildings in sight. She was in some kind of natural woodland. She recognised larch, spruce and several types of pine tree. Susan could hear the murmur of a brook further down the slope but she headed up to the top to get a better overview of her situation. She moved cautiously. There must have been a reason the alien wand brought her to this place and until she knew what it was she needed to be very careful.

Trees obscured her view from the summit but Susan thought she could discern a fence about half a mile away. If she found that she could follow it. Eventually it would have to lead to a gate and perhaps a road. She headed for it.

Susan exalted in the fresh air, the sharp scent of the forest and the sense of freedom. She breathed deeply, not to calm her fears but to fill herself with life. This place was truly beautiful. She came across a raspberry bush laden with berries and, suddenly overwhelmed by hunger, she fell to eating. The berries were a little green but, after a week with only tinned sardines, they were ambrosia.

As she neared the fence she could see that the vegetation had been cleared along the line of the fence on both sides. She caught the scent of ozone; the fence was electrified. Not wanting to be seen, Susan stayed within the tree line, following the fence from a distance. She felt vindicated ten minutes later when she spotted a surveillance camera scanning the fence in both directions, vindicated but frightened.

A little while later she heard voices and she crouched down, hugging a tree for cover. The voices were faint and soon disappeared. They didn't sound as if they were speaking English.

It was ten minutes before Susan began to move again. It wasn't long before she heard voices again, but these were different, women's voices and speaking English by the sound of it.

Susan again crouched down behind a tree. She risked taking a peek. There were two young women, about her own age; one a stunning blonde, the other, a little shorter with flaming red hair falling down her back. They carried wands! Were they agents of the aliens? But why were they on the far side of the fence? But then they weren't, they just popped through it, continuing their conversation as if nothing had happened. They seemed to be arguing about which direction to head.

Except for the wands, the two girls seemed so ordinary, so harmless. Susan took a deep breath and was about to reveal herself to them when the two girls were surrounded by assault rifles, pointing at them, just hanging in mid-air.

"Drop you wands," demanded a gruff voice but Susan could not see anyone to whom the voice could belong. The two girls dropped their wands and then a hand emerged from nowhere, picked up the wands and then disappeared. Susan felt the blood drain from her face and her breathing was short and ragged.

On impulse she hid her wand beneath the ground cover. She did not want to have to explain how she had possession of alien technology. She could just plead she was an innocent bystander if she was caught.

Slowly she backed away from the strange scene, but then she felt the muzzle of a rifle pressed into her back.

"I found another one," shouted a voice right behind her.

A hand grabbed her shirt and pulled her to her feet, then shoved her towards the two girls whose hands were now bound behind them.

Both girls stared at her wide eyed as she approached.

"Susan, thank Merlin you are alive," said the red head.

Susan had never been more surprised in her life.

oOo

"Hello, Hermione."

Hermione didn't need to look up from her work to recognise the lilting voice of Luna Lovegood. She frowned. She had a lot of work to do and she didn't have time for a typical meandering conversation with Luna. Even if it was short, Hermione had found that logical clear, thinking was impossible for at least five minutes after talking with Luna. Luna was very bright, but she had a way of reaching valid conclusions via mental processes that were alien to Hermione. It disturbed her.

"Hi, Luna, what can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you have heard from Ginny or Fleur. Today is the day we find Susan, I think."

Hermione jerked her head upward, her eyes wide open, staring at Luna. Then she reached for the days search schedule prepared by Luna. Truth was she hadn't even read it. She had simply forwarded it on to the DA searchers with a copy to Hoffleshead.

"You've got Ginny and Fleur investigating this estate,  _Blackbrae,_  in Scotland this afternoon."

"Yes."

"It was owned by Alfonse Rosier, shouldn't that have gone to Hoffleshead people?"

"It's a French name, like Lestrange. Besides, I think this is where Susan is and I want the DA to find her, not law people. You can't trust them."

Hermione just shook her head. "What makes you think this is the place?"

"I've been reading the  _War Investigations Commission_  transcripts. There are multiple references to prisoners being held at a place near Castle Douglas which is only a few miles from Blackbrae. Bellatrix interrogated prisoners there at least once. It was only when I read that that I remembered overhearing something when I was imprisoned at Malfoy manor. That awful Peter Pettigrew was told to take a couple of prisoners to Rosier's hideaway."

Hermione jumped up from her chair, grabbing her wand. "I'm going to join them. This could be it."

"Do you want to know who owns Blackbrae now? It's very interesting," said Luna.

"Later."

"Nuura Ozan. Do you know who she is?"

"Later, Luna." Hermione disapparated.

"Marvin Hoffleshead's Muggle mother," said Luna to empty air.

 


	8. Blackbrae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head.

They must have looked a strange sight, thought Susan, three young women being herded through a forest by a flock of floating assault rifles. Her mind told her that there were flesh and blood men holding those rifles, that they must be shielded by more of the amazing alien technology, but seeing is believing and she couldn't see them.

She could hear them though. They were talking in a language that sounded like Parthanian to her. They only spoke in English when they were telling the girls to shut up and keep moving.

Susan had long been a sympathiser with the Parthanian cause, but not to the extent she was happy being frogmarched in silence with her arms tied behind her back.

Susan's mind was seething with questions: Who were the girls? How did they know who she was? Where was she and why were there Parthanians here with guns? How could the Parthanians have access to alien technology and why didn't they use it in their struggle? How many humans actually knew about the aliens? Susan felt her whole world view begin to crumble but it was less painful than thinking about the really big question: What did her captors intend to do with her?

They came out of the forest onto a broad meadow with a stream running through it. The girls were steered towards an old manor house. There was a large dilapidated barn beside it that was barely managing to stay erect.

When they entered the house Susan was surprised at how roomy it was. It was also in far better condition than the exterior of the building suggested, even if sparsely furnished. The guns ushered them through the entrance lobby into a large bare room. The only furniture was a desk and some filing cabinets. The man sitting behind the desk had the bearing of a military man, but he wasn't wearing a uniform, rather he wore the standard costume of the gentleman farmer; a tweed coat and woollen trousers.

As soon as they entered the room, the men holding the guns became visible. They each held a long shimmery strip of fine material in their hands which they hung on pegs in the wall.

"Did you get their wands?" asked the man behind the desk.

"Yes, Bąz" replied the tallest of their captors. "This one didn't have one," he said pointing at Susan. "We caught her separately."

The Bąz stood up and walked over to Susan, holding his face just inches from hers.

"Where is your wand?"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Search her."

Susan felt rough hands search every part of her body, lingering far too long in certain areas than was necessary.

"Satisfied," she spat.

"You must be the normal one, the one they have been looking for. Lock the girl and the two djinn in the storage room for now. I want two guards on the door at all times. The Doctor can decide what to do with them," said the Bąz.

Their now visible captors moved them gingerly to the back of the house and down some stairs. The tall man opened a heavy wooden door and ushered the girls inside.

"Behave, and when this is all over, you will be released," he said and then crossed himself before closing the door. Susan could hear the lock turning.

She was back in a dungeon. But this time there was electric light and her cellmates were alive. She wasn't sure yet whether that was an advantage.

Susan turned around to face her two companions. "Who are you? How do you know my name? What do those Parthanians want and where do the aliens fit in?"

"First things first," said Ginny. "Let's get these hand restraints off." She turned her back on Susan who quickly got the idea and turned also. With Fleur acting as eyes they soon removed the cable ties that bound them. Ginny freed Fleur.

"OK, introductions. I'm Ginny and this is my sister in law, Fleur. And you are Susan Herriot."

"Yes, how do you know?"

"We've been looking for you since that idiot cousin of yours, Mundungus Fletcher, sent you Hermione's wand for safe keeping. Of course he didn't know it was booby trapped."

"Booby trapped? Hermione? Look, let's start at the beginning. How come you've got this marvellous alien technology and why do the aliens hide from the rest of us? What do they want?"

"Aliens?" asked Ginny.

"Don't try and deny it. There was a dead alien in the dungeon where I was trapped for the last week. Then there are the wands you two were carrying and the invisibility shields the Parthanians used, no one on Earth has that kind of technology."

"What do you know about the power of wands?" asked Fleur.

"I know why the Parthanians were keen to make sure we didn't have one. If you did you could just jump right out of this cellar, like I escaped from the Dungeon."

Susan noticed both Ginny and Fleur go wide eyed at this statement.

"You apparated out of a dungeon?" asked Ginny, incredulity written all over her face.

"Is  _'apparate'_  the word for it? Well, yes. It did take me some time to work out how to do it, but I figured if it could transport me all the way from Essex it could take me a few more feet."

"What else did you do with the wand?" asked Fleur.

Susan wondered if she should say anymore but decided her need for allies at the moment was more important than her need for caution. "I used it to light the dungeon and I was also able to crack some rocks."

"You're a witch!" said Ginny.

"There's no need to be insulting."

"Is not an insult," said Fleur, "it is what you are, what we are, women with magical abilities."

"Magic? Don't be silly. I am not a child. Anyway how do you explain the dead alien?"

"Describe him," said Ginny.

"Small, like a child, but heavy set and with a huge domed head and needle sharp teeth."

"Sounds like a Goblin."

"Oh come on. Next you'll be telling me elves, unicorns and dragons are real."

"Believe in aliens if you want to, Susan. We actually have a bigger problem at the moment. You might have noticed we have been imprisoned by a group of armed men who seem to know all about wands. That's not good."

"It must be them. Bill said they were somewhere in this area of Scotland," said Fleur softly, her face now as faint as a morning mist.

"Must be who?" asked Susan.

"A couple of days after you disappeared a terrorist group, using magic invisibility cloaks they shouldn't have, stole four nuclear weapons from a US base in England. We seem to have stumbled onto their nest."

Susan couldn't breathe. "They will kill us," she said at last.

"Hermione knows where we are. She'll raise the alarm. We'll be fine," said Ginny.

Just then the shimmery otter of Hermione's  _patronus_  appeared in the cellar.

"Hi Ginny, I thought I'd come up here to Blackbrae and join you. Have you found Susan? Let me know precisely where you are and we can search together."

Without a wand, Ginny couldn't reply.

oOo

Hermione was worried. Even if Ginny and Fleur had moved on elsewhere they should have replied to her  _patronus_. Just as worrying was the electrified fence surrounding the property. Why would anyone need that? Perhaps the property was being used as a nature reserve and the fence was to keep native animals in and feral ones out. Maybe.

Hermione decided to scout the property, keeping on the outside, trying to remain concealed. She couldn't rule out, though, that she had already been spotted. This section of the property was heavily wooded, but Hermione used  _homenum revelio_  and several other spells to probe the area as she moved around the perimeter. There were at least a dozen people scattered throughout the woods in groups of twos and threes.

The woods were thinning on both sides of the fence and eventually gave way to open meadows. Hermione found it harder to keep behind cover. Crouching low, she hid behind a low bush where she had a good view of a large open area that contained an old house and a run-down barn with a truck parked outside it.

There was no one out in the open, but there were about eight people in the house and surprisingly even more in the barn. Hermione was feeling uneasy. Something was very wrong with this picture. She was about to send a message to Ron and Harry when a faint pop behind her made her jump.

She turned to see Hoffleshead about fifty yards away, shoving his wand in his pocket, walking toward her. She frantically signalled him to keep low, but it took him some time to get the idea and he only crouched down over the last ten yards.

"What are you doing here, Mr Hoffleshead?"

"I could ask you the same question, Hermione, and I guess you'd give the same answer. We both saw the schedule for today and thought this place looked promising. I might come across as uncaring, but I'm just as keen to find Susan as you are."

When Hermione didn't respond, Hoffleshead added, "Why all this cloak and dagger stuff? Why are we hiding and why are we whispering?"

Despite herself, Hermione smiled. "I guess whispering is a bit ridiculous, but there is something not right here. Ginny hasn't responded to my patronus, there are people hiding in the woods and far too many in that barn to make sense."

"You sure you are not being paranoid. I might just be a group of old age pensioners having a picnic in the woods, with the older ones having a snooze in the barn."

Hermione cast another  _homenum revelio_  toward the house. She was stunned when the spell revealed two people out in the open, two people she couldn't see.

"How many old age pensioners wear invisibility cl_"

" _Expelliarmus_ "

Hermione's wand flew from her hand and was deftly caught by Hoffleshead who now pointed two wands at her.

"I am sorry Miss Granger, but I must insist that you come with me."

"You're working with the terrorists! How much did they pay you?"

"They didn't pay me anything. Not that it is any of your business, but this whole operation has cost me just about everything I have, including, I am sure, my freedom. And they are not terrorists, Miss Granger, but people fighting for their own liberty."

"Your mother," said Hermione. "Nuura Ozan must be your muggle mother. That's a Parthanian name, isn't it?"

"Very perceptive. When I had to flee Voldemort's England, I was given shelter among my mother's people. I learned first-hand the oppression, the crushing poverty, the daily humiliations that they suffered. I came to understand that there were worse crimes than breaching wizarding secrecy. Now please, stand and start walking toward that gate over there. I don't want to harm you, Hermione, but I am sure you are aware of the stakes that are involved."

Hermione got up slowly and started walking.

"These weapons will not bring liberty to the Parthanians, just death and destruction."

"They will not be used. I have assurances on that. They will simply give equal weight to the Parthanian end of the bargaining table."

"And you think I'm naïve."

"Hurry along Hermione, I have to go and prepare a welcome for your boyfriend and his best mate. Somehow they have located this place. Fortunately they told me about it rather than Gristlewaite. Bad things will happen if you ignore the chain of command."

Hermione felt her heart sink, but, despite her constant probing and taunts, Hoffleshead said no more.

When they got close to the house, Hermione caught a glimpse inside the barn. They were loading the nuclear bombs onto the truck.

"That's right Miss Granger, another hour and they will be gone from here. If you behave, then in a day or two you will all be released unharmed. I think you know what will happen if you try and interfere."

Hoffleshead handed Hermione over to two armed Parthanians who marched Hermione down the stairs and shoved her into the storage room with the others.

"I'm hoping getting caught is part of some brilliant plan of yours, Hermione," said Ginny.

"My only plan is to get out of here and soon. They are moving the bombs now. If we don't get out in the next hour I don't think we will…"

"Is anyone else coming? Luna knows we are 'ere," said Fleur.

"By the time Luna realises something is wrong, it will be too late. The only people coming are Harry and Ron, and they are walking into a trap."

Ginny's hands flew to her face.

"Why are 'Arry and Ron coming? How do you know?" asked Fleur.

"I don't know why, they must have worked it out. They told Hoffleshead they were coming and he told me."

"Then Hoffleshead will be coming with his team," said Ginny.

"Hoffleshead is already here, he is one of them. He is the one who captured me."

A groan came from the floor. Hermione took notice of Susan for the first time. She was kneeling on the ground, bent over.

"Susan! What's wrong with her?" asked Hermione.

"Stomach cramps," said Fleur, "sardines and green raspberries. She feels like she is going to sick."

"Then we should help her," said Hermione.

Two minutes later Hermione started banging on the door. "Help we need a doctor, Help." She kept banging for some time until the door finally opened to reveal two men, guns pointed at her."

"Move back, all of you. Why are you making so much noise?"

"It's Susan, she's been poisoned, berries we think. She's close to death and she needs medical attention," said Hermione.

Susan was lying still on the floor, a large pool of vomit nearby. Her face was deathly pale with a green tinge.

"It is no concern of ours. I am sorry," replied one of the guards.

"The doctor will be angry," said Hermione. "He promised Hoffleshead he'd keep us safe."

This line was an enormous gamble, Hermione knew, but it was the best they could up with in the short time available. If the men laughed, they'd know they were in real trouble. Fortunately, they frowned and quickly conferred in their own language.

"All of you, back against the wall," said the guard with a full, dark beard.

Fleur, who already had her back to the wall near the door stayed where she was. Ginny and Hermione moved to the opposite wall. One guard stayed at the door, moving his gun from side to side, while the one with the black beard moved to check on Susan.

Fleur was white with fear and trembling, her hands clutched to her breast, nervously fiddling with the buttons of her blouse. The top button was soon undone; the guard at the door couldn't look away.

Meanwhile, black beard had reached Susan. He knelt down on the floor and put his hand to Susan's neck. "She has a pulse."

Fleur had now opened the third button, her blouse gaping wide. She closed her eyes. Hermione knew she was reaching deep for her Veela essence. When Fleur opened her eyes again she was desirability itself, her already beautiful body transformed, perfect and illuminated from deep within. A musky scent reached Hermione. The door guard was lost, unable to see or hear anything else but Fleur.

Meanwhile Susan began convulsing. Black beard, looked frightened and uncertain what to do. He put his gun down on the ground and tried to hold Susan steady.

Both Ginny and Hermione moved quickly and decisively. Hermione dashed to the door guard and snatched his gun. He was almost beyond caring. Ginny leaped over Susan and kicked the gun away from black beard. He reacted quickly, jumping to his feet, grabbing hold of Ginny and hurling her across the room, away from the gun. He made a dash to retrieve his gun, but was stopped by Hermione's authoritative "Halt or I'll shoot." He turned to see Hermione pointing the assault rifle straight at his chest.

Susan jumped up from the floor and retrieved the other gun. Ginny got up slowly, and then quietly closed the door. The girls bound the guards hand and foot.

"We need to gag them," said Hermione, otherwise they will raise the alarm when we escape.

Fleur shrugged. She took off her blouse, tore it in two and used it to gag the men.

"Remind me never to leave you alone with Harry," said Ginny.

"I have been alone with 'Arry many times, but do not worry little Ginny. I do not think that even I could take 'Arry from you, or Ron from you, Hermione. Anyway, why would I want to when I 'ave Bill.'

"We need to get our wands back," said Hermione, "Then we can warn Harry and Ron and get help."

"The guy they call Bąz locked them away in a safe. I saw him when we were upstairs," said Ginny.

Hermione looked at the rifle she was holding. "We will have to persuade him to open it," she said feeling sick in the stomach.

"He won't," said Susan, "He is the sort who would rather die than do that. He might actually goad you into shooting him so the others would know you had escaped."

Hermione shuddered. "We need a wand."

"I have a wand," whispered Susan, glancing at the trussed guards, "the wand Mundungus sent me. I hid it in the forest near where we were captured."

"We have to get it," said Hermione feeling a little excited.

"Yes, but we have to get out of here first without being seen," said Ginny.

"There are invisibility cloaks hanging on the wall upstairs," said Susan.

The girls left the storage room, locking it behind them. Leaving Fleur and Susan at the base of the stairs, Hermione and Ginny snuck up to the ground floor. Years of sneaking around Hogwarts, and, for Ginny, the Burrow, had made them both expert at moving quietly through old buildings.

Upstairs was deserted except for the large lounge room where the Bąz was feeding files into a shredder. Unfortunately that was the room where the cloaks were.

The lounge room had two doors, a large one opening onto the entrance hallway and a smaller one opening onto a corridor that ran along the side. Ginny fished a knut coin out of her pocket and threw it down the far end of the corridor where it landed with a clatter. The Bąz got up to investigate. He leaned out of the small door and glanced down the corridor. Hermione quickly glided to the pegs holding cloaks and threw one on. The Bąz must have caught a flash of movement when he turned back, because he stared long at hard at end of the room where Hermione now stood invisible. A heavy crashing sound outside distracted him. He headed outside, passing only inches from Hermione and then shouted something in Parthanian before returning inside and resuming his shredding.

Hermione grabbed three more invisibility cloaks. Within a minute all four girls were crossing the meadow, heading for the forest. Hermione risked a quick look at the activity around the barn. Three warheads had already been loaded into the truck. They had to hurry. Hermione couldn't wait to feel her old wand in her hand once more.

Encountering no new trouble, they reached the area where Susan had hidden the wand. Susan had warned them about the surveillance cameras and they kept hidden under their invisibility cloaks. It took Susan several minutes to locate the wand. When she did, she held it out for Hermione.

Now that it was so close, Hermione felt nervous, then she reached out and took the wand. Immediately she felt a surge of elation as a mystical experiential exchange flowed between her true wand and her magical core. For a moment, both the wand and her arm glowed and both were as one. "My arm is whole again," she said softly.

Just then they heard gunfire coming from the direction of the house. Almost immediately there was more gunfire, this time a little more to the right and closer.

"They know we've escaped. They are searching for us, firing randomly," said Hermione, "We have to get out of here. Susan, hold my hand. I'll jump you out then come back for the others."

Susan's hand emerged from beneath the cloak and Hermione grabbed it, but when she tried to disapparate nothing happened. She tried again with the same result.

"Hoffleshead must have laid down an anti disapparition field," said Hermione.

"Quick, send a message to Harry. Warn them, get help," said Ginny.

Hermione summoned her  _patronus_. A shimmery otter leapt from the end of her wand, but then it sank slowly to the ground and simply faded away.

"I didn't think you could block a patronus. Are you sure there is nothing wrong with your wand?" asked Ginny.

Hermione pointed her wand at the fence. " _Reducto_." A small hole appeared in the fence, just large enough to pass through. Hermione had been careful not to break the electric circuit which might have given away their position. "Nothing wrong with the wand or my magic," said Hermione.

oOo

Hermione scanned the area once again. "There are now three separate groups, all inside the fence, moving in this general direction."

"What are we waiting for", said Ginny, "Let's get out of here."

"We'll rendezvous at that patch of bramble bush over there, do you see it?" Only Hermione's hand and wand were visible, pointing to an isolated patch of tangled shrub about 30 yards away, on the other side of the fence.

"Yes," said the other three girls.

"Good, sound off as you go through the fence and keep covered."

After they had all passed through the hole in the fence, Hermione repaired it with a  _reparo_  spell.

"We need to get down to the road. It's the only way out of the estate. We can stop the nuclear weapons leaving and we can walk toward the nearest town until we are out of range of the blocking spells," said Hermione.

"Sounds like a plan," said Ginny, mimicking Ron's voice. They headed downslope, toward the road, Hermione constantly scanning the area around them with her wand.

They were still in the forested area when Hermione called halt. "There are five people between us and the road, outside the fence. One of them is lying down.

"They probably expect us to come this way. They have set up an ambush," said Susan.

"Stay close to me," said Hermione. "We'll see what we can see when we clear the forest."

They moved slowly, whispering so they could keep track of each other's location. When they reached the edge of the clearing they halted. At first, Hermione was confused by what she saw: two men, one standing behind another with a third lying on the ground. Then the picture became clear and a deep cry of pain rose from her very depths. She did not know if she managed to supress it but she heard Ginny's muffled cry of anguish.

Hoffleshead was standing behind Harry, one hand on his shoulder, the other pressing a wand into Harry's neck. Ron's limp, unmoving body lay on the ground. Two Parthanians were standing nearby, rifles at the ready.

"I know you are there," called out Hoffleshead. "All four of you remove your cloaks immediately and come forward, otherwise I will be forced to kill Mr Potter here, and finish off Mr Weasley if he is still alive."

"Don't do it Hermione, Ginny, save yourselves," shouted Harry.

Hoffleshead ignored him. "You have five seconds. Five, Four,…"

Hermione and Ginny threw off their cloaks.

"All four of you. Three, two…"

Fleur and Susan took off theirs.

"Now if you would all come a little closer. Good. Now, Ms Herriot I am very glad to see you alive, but I would be a lot more comfortable if you threw that assault rifle behind you as far as you can throw. And Hermione, I hate to part you so soon from your old wand, but please throw it on the ground in front of you."

Hermione glared at Hoffleshead, but threw her wand on the ground. Susan threw the gun behind her, but only several yards.

"If everyone stays calm and no one does anything rash, we can all stay alive, including Mr Weasley, I believe," said Hoffleshead. "Ms Herriot, could you please pick up Hermione's wand and bring it to me."

Susan looked at Hermione, but she gave no indication to Susan what she should do. Susan picked up the wand and walked towards Hoffleshead.

"You might pick up Mr Potter and Mr Weasley's wands also." Said Hoffleshead.

Susan picked up a wand that was on the ground several feet in front of Harry. Ron's wand was inches from his hand. Susan retrieved it then walked to Hoffleshead, holding out the wands for him to take."

He reached out for them.

" _Thundunga_!" yelled Susan. Hoffleshead's body flew into the air and came crashing down ten feet away. Susan stood there, rigid, her mouth agape. Harry quickly twisted around, snatched his wand from Susan's hand and stunned the two Parthanian guards before they could even raise their rifles. He managed to revive Ron before he was almost knocked over by Ginny who threw her arms around him.

Hermione cooed over Ron, who slowly got to his feet. "I'm fine Hermione," he said.

"We are not safe yet," said Fleur. "There is still a small army on the other side of the fence."

Hermione retrieved her wand from Susan then went to check on Hoffleshead.

"How is he," said Susan from behind Hermione. Hermione looked up at her to see she was shaking. "He's alive. He'll be fine if we get him treatment soon enough."

"The gates are opening," yelled Fleur.

"Give that wand to Ron," Hermione said to Susan. She took the wand still clutched in Hoffleshead's hand and threw it to Ginny. She then searched in his pocket and found the wand he had taken from Hermione earlier in the day giving that to Fleur. Hermione put a full body binding curse on Hoffleshead just to be safe.

Just then the truck, laden with four nuclear warheads, came charging down the road from the barn and through the gate. Bullets flew through the air. Ron and Harry used their wands to excavate a trench across the road, just in front of the truck. The truck crashed into it, smashing the engine and coming to an abrupt halt. The invisible driver flew through the windscreen.

Ginny and Fleur projected a screen that deflected the bullets. Telling Susan to keep down and stay where she was, Hermione joined the others. All five moved forward together, Ginny and Fleur providing protection, Hermione painting targets, sweeping the area with  _hominem revelio_ , the boys bringing the Parthanians down with stunning spells.

They moved through the gates and towards the house. The Bąz was the last to go down.

Harry tried sending a Patronus through to Gristlewaite and now, with Hoffleshead down, it worked.

"Cavalry is on its way," he said when he had finished.

"Two hours ago would have been more useful," said Hermione.

When they returned to where they had left Susan, they found her cradling an assault rifle, keeping watch over Hoffleshead.

"You did brilliantly, thank you," said Harry

"What you five just did was unbelievable. I hope you are going to teach me how to use this marvellous alien technology."

Harry and Ron looked confused.

Ginny laughed. "Just wait till you get to ride on a broomstick. Then, you'll believe in witches."


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday, three months later

It was a Sunday, three months later. Hermione and Fleur were helping Molly Weasley prepare Sunday lunch. It was a special farewell for Susan who was heading off to Alabama for their world famous three month accelerated program in witchcraft and wizardry for adults.

The course was designed for those witches and wizards who for a variety of reasons, most commonly their parent's preference, did not receive a normal wizarding education.

Susan had already received a crash course in witchcraft courtesy of Hermione who had organised a hectic schedule for her that took up each of Susan's weekends. Hermione had dragged in half of the DA to help in the effort and was annoyed as one by one they dropped away from the program. Only Terry Boot had stayed the course and had indeed volunteered for extra sessions.

Hermione had smiled this morning when Terry had arrived looking resplendent in his full formal Auror uniform, a practice he had started several weeks ago after Susan had told them that she had been taught how to shoot by a rather dashing young captain of the Coldstream Guards.

Terry would be staying with them for lunch. Luna was coming too. Luna had insisted on giving Susan some lessons on magical beasts and after all the work she had put in to help find Susan, Hermione didn't have the heart to say no. Hopefully Alabama would help Susan sort myth from reality when it came to  _Hungarian Horntails_  and  _Crumple-Horned Snorkacks._

Another person had invited themselves to lunch today and, while the Minister for Magic was always welcome at the Burrow and not an infrequent guest, Hermione could not help but be curious why he had chosen to attend this lunch.

Hermione watched Terry and Susan come in from the backyard where Terry had insisted on drilling Susan on blocking spells. "You've got to watch those good ole boys from Alabama," he had said. Susan had simply smiled. They were chatting amiably as they came in and both had worked up a sweat.

"Lunch is in twenty minutes, if you want to freshen up," said Hermione.

Terry simply hit himself with a freshening charm and sat down with Ron and Harry. Susan went upstairs to shower and change.

It was a lovely summer's day and they ate outside, the Weasley men digging in with their usual gusto. As the edge was taken off appetites the tempo of conversation rose.

"So Susan," asked Bill, "How is your training going?"

'It's been an extraordinary journey. I've learned so much. I am still not sure whether I am more stunned that magic is possible or that I can produce it."

"Hermione and I know a little of how it must feel," said Harry. "We were eleven before we learned anything about the magical world and that was stunning enough. But at twenty!"

"There are certainly a number of times in my past when magic would have been more than useful," said Susan. "If I had known  _Wingardium Leviosa_  I could have cleared the exit from the Dungeon, for example."

Hermione blushed in advance. She knew what was about to happen.

"Hermione here is the real expert on  _Wingardium Leviosa_ ," said Ron. He flourished his wand and a paper serviette floated of the table, wobbled briefly and then burst into flames.

"No, Ronald, you have it all wrong," said Harry in a high pitched imitation of Hermione's voice, "It's  _Wingaaaardium Leviosaaah."_ He flourished his wand and another serviette rose steadily into the air, did a graceful loop de loop before exploding into a gentle shower of white feathers."

Susan clapped, and smiling, turned to Hermione. "And you call one your boyfriend and the other your best friend?"

"They have their better moments," replied Hermione.

"What are you thinking of doing when you get back from Alabama," asked Percy.

"I want to finish my degree; that's another two years yet. Then, who knows? I have a lot to think about. I have always wanted to follow my parents into the diplomatic service but this magic thing has thrown me. I am studying literature and languages mainly, but I have done a fair amount of history too and wanted to do more. It's difficult to accept that so much I thought I knew about the past before 1700 is in good part fiction and a lot of it since. I also thought I understood how the world worked, now I realise I have to start all over again."

"I do sympathise," said Kingsley, "but can I ask one thing?"

"What's that?"

"When you work it out, could you come and explain it to me, because whenever I think I have worked it out, the world has a habit of doing something totally unexpected."

Everyone laughed.

"Ah, the wisdom of the old ones," said George, "Always admonishing us young one's for not knowing enough, then sagely rubbing their beards admitting they know nothing at all themselves."

"I didn't say I know nothing, George," said Kingsley. "Indeed I have information that may be of interest to a number of you."

All ears and eyes turned to Kingsley

"You don't need me, Susan, to tell you that more than a few people are very appreciative of what you and the others did three months ago at Blackbrae."

Hermione smiled. Susan was now a celebrity on the University of Essex campus. Her photo had been on the front page of every muggle newspaper and on TV. So had photos of the rest of them, but they had managed to have their photos altered so no one would actually recognise them. Being famous in the wizarding world, Hermione, Harry and the younger Weasleys all prized their anonymity in the muggle world.

Of course the Muggle press hadn't been told the real story. They had been told that Susan and her five friends had been camping in the area and had stumbled onto the Parthanian camp, were captured, had escaped and then took on the far larger group of armed Parthanians, preventing them getting the nuclear weapons out of the country and holding them off till help could arrive. It was a masterpiece of fiction but essentially true in spirit.

"Her Majesty's Government, and her Majesty the Queen herself are also very appreciative and they have asked me to pass these on to you," said Kingsley, fishing six formal looking envelopes from his pocket, each bearing the Queen's seal, and handing them out to the  _Blackbrae Six_ , as the Muggle press had taken to calling them.

"The George Medal, haven't we already received one of these?" asked Ginny after she had opened her envelope.

"No," laughed Kingsley, "you are a member of the Order of St George, a wizarding honour for valour. This is a Muggle award."

Susan was ashen face. "The George Medal is the highest British civilian award for bravery. Minister, I can't accept this. This is an award for people who run into crashed jets, fuel burning all around them, and drag out the passengers. I don't deserve this."

"Susan, you took on a powerful wizard single handed, using a wand you barely knew how to use while two men pointed assault rifles at you. You thereby prevented four nuclear weapons falling into the hands of terrorists. Very serious people who know what really happened think you very much deserve it," said Kingsley.

"Hear! Hear!" said Arthur and the whole table erupted in applause.

Susan had tears in her eyes.

"I have one more thing to hand out," said Kingsley. He fished another envelope from his pocket, this one bearing the seal of the Wizengamot Honours and Awards Committee. "This one is just for you, Susan, you are being made a member of the Order of St George." He handed the envelope to Susan. "As young Ginny pointed out, with, I might add, the lack of humility and grace one has come to expect from a Holly Head Harpy, she already is a member of the Order, as is, I think everyone else around this table."

Susan remained speechless.

"That last fact, by the way," added Kingsley who was on a roll, "shouldn't lead you to the conclusion that we give out orders of St George like butter beer. Rather it is a sign that you have fallen in with a most extraordinary group of young witches and wizards."

"I'm beginning to realise that," said Susan, finally finding her tongue, "and I cannot begin to tell you all how much I appreciate what you have done for me and how you have all made me fell so welcome. None of you needed to do any of that."

"Of course we did," said Hermione, "it was my wand that got you into trouble in the first place."

"Nonsense. That was my idiot cousin's doing. How you could have anything to do with me when I have a relative like Mundungus, I don't understand."

"Hah, you haven't met our Aunt Muriel," said Ron.

"Or the Dursleys," said Harry. "It's not our relatives that count. As the great Professor Dumbledore once said to me, it is our choices that show who we truly are. By that measure, Susan, I am proud to count you as a friend."

"To Susan," said Hermione, raising her glass.

"To Susan," said all.

"Alabama will never be the same again," said Ron.

"I know I won't," said Susan.

**The End**

* * *

**_Please tell_ ** **_me what you think_ ** **_._ ** All comments welcome: critical, complimentary, comical and corrosive. Thanks for reading.

 


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